Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors
by MandoCommander
Summary: Fourth installment in my ongoing series. Two years have passed since the Battle of Hutta, with the Galactic Civil War now in full swing as the Rebellion struggles to keep up the fight against the Empire. As a new hope emerges, both Ezra and Sabine are summoned to Mandalorian space at the discretion of Mand'alor himself. As the guns of war intensify, a new set of challenges await.
1. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Summoning

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: Hello once again, all of my loyal readers. To those of you joining us for the first time, welcome! Though, I would recommend the latter group read the first trilogy before starting, here. As the fourth installment of my ongoing series for Star Wars: Rebels, this story is the start of a new trilogy that will essentially mark the middle of the series, before the upcoming sequel trilogy. This and the next two stories will be shorter than those in the first trilogy and the impending sequel trilogy, but rest assured, no effort will be spared in making them the absolute best they can be.**

 **So, as previously mentioned, this particular story is set two years after where the last one, "The Promised Day", left off. This chapter is** **set to be concurrent with the events in "A New Hope", and multiple references to both that movie and "Rogue One" will also be prominent. This story will primarily center around Ezrabine fluff/angst as they continue moving through mutually uncharted waters of life as a couple, focused within a strong, traditional Mandalorian plot line with plenty of references to the Old Republic series and other EU content. Kanera will also remain prominent, of course, and a greater plot line with tie-ins to the upcoming sequel trilogy will begin in this story as well. So now, without further ado, let us begin! Enjoy, and a most sincere thanks for your patronage, to each and every one of you! :)**

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Summoning

 _Escalation! The Galaxy is plunged into an all-out state of civil war! Two years have passed since the daring freedom fighters of the Rebellion achieved a costly, partial victory against the military of the Galactic Empire over the nefarious swamp world of Hutta. Now, on the heels of their more decisive triumph on the remote tropical world of Scarif, the re_ _bels face an uncertain future as they struggle to secure their prize from the battle, the schematics to the ultimate Imperial superweapon known only as the Death Star. As these events unfold center-stage, at the hidden rebel base on a remote moon, the freedom fighters receive a cryptic but urgent transmission from their reluctant yet formidable allies, a faction of elite warriors known as the True Mandalorians..._

The roar of sublight engines sounded in the skies over the Great Temple on the fourth moon of Yavin. While the gas giant of a planet itself was uninhabitable, most of her moons were, and it was within the thicket of jungles on Yavin 4 that the Alliance to Restore the Republic, or the Rebellion as it was more commonly known, had chosen to use the largest of the stone structures built by ancient worshippers in an era long past as the location of their first unified base. Gone were the days of separate, loosely-affiliated rebel cells. In the aftermath of the costly Battle of Hutta over a year and half prior, the surviving remnants of the coalition of freedom fighters had unified to a collective organization, and begun the arduous process of rebuilding their naval strength from there. X-Wing and Y-Wing squadrons were a common sight flying to and from the hangar built into the ground level of the temple, be it for combat deployments, patrols, or training flights.

The recent Battle of Scarif had taken a somewhat lesser toll, but was still a victory that required substantial sacrifice. Some of their best had been lost to acquire the schematics to the Emperor's ultimate weapon, including arguably their best commando officer, Captain Cassian Andor, promoted from lieutenant when the crew of the _Ghost_ had first met him at the now-abandoned Sandril Base on Dantooine.

Ezra Bridger smiled sadly to himself in memory. He remembered telling Cassian that rebellions are built on hope, and from what he'd heard regarding the last meeting in the command room prior to that battle, it seems the Rebel commando had imparted those words on that young woman who'd been with them only briefly before she too perished in the battle. Jyn Erso, he believed her name was. The young Jedi's expression dropped further as he lowered his head with a sad sigh. Truly, the costs of this escalating war were only getting worse and more frequent as time went by. He wasn't naïve enough to have believed no war would be without cost, but that didn't make the reality of it all any easier.

Every loss the Rebellion suffered since the fateful battle over Hutta had reminded Ezra of Zeb. Barely a day ever went by without the young Jedi recalling the Lasat warrior who'd been like an older brother to him. A part of him knew Zeb would've wanted to go down fighting above all else, and it was exactly that way Zeb had gone down, aiding Kanan against one of the most dangerous foes their team had ever faced. Ezra had always taken solace in that knowledge. Zeb was above all things a warrior through and through, and the veteran of the Lasan Honor Guard had lived and died like one.

Wrapped in in his own thoughts and musings as he helped with offloading a cargo carrier full of supplies to one of the transport trams, Ezra Bridger was caught off-guard when a certain Mandalorian young woman placed her hand on his shoulder gently as he wiped his brow, having just set down another crate onto a flatbed repulsor car attached to the tram's forward cab. He nearly squeaked as he jumped slightly in surprise, whipping around to face her, and blushed as he saw Sabine Wren, who had to suppress a chuckle at the spectacle. He hoped she would just think he was flushed from sweating, but experience taught him not to be so presumptive; they knew each other rather well.

Ezra had been beside himself in a slew of emotions when she confessed she returned his feelings in the ruins of the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine after they and the other Rebel survivors had escaped back to Sandril Base after the Battle of Hutta. He had been confused, happy, mesmerized, jubilant, and finally both fearful at her next reaction and irritated at himself for not being able to form a coherent reply to her revelation at first. Relief had flooded over him when she warmly brushed off his awkwardness, and the previous joyful feelings returned when she leaned in to kiss him. It had without a doubt been the happiest moment of his life, to learn his affections for her were returned, and to finally kiss her. It had been the first of many moments stolen alone together, and two years had passed since then. They were still together, the young couple learning and navigating through the foreign world of relationships, together.

Since then, naturally, Sabine had changed the color combinations in her hair and on her armor more than once, with her current appearance an ode to her heritage and role, as a daughter of Clan Wren and the Rebellion's official ambassador to the Mandalorian Clans, respectively. Her familiar, beskar-plate armor had been recolored in a mixture of orange and gold paint, with her hair, still cropped in a bob with bangs hanging off to the right of her face, was dyed a matching gold. Her shoulderplates retained separate designs from the rest of her armor, the left remaining with the familiar green and white, mystical owl-like creature, surrounded by a glowing yellow. The right had been repainted with a matching shade of shining yellow surrounding a familiar white wolf. Her high-tech vambraces, which had been destroyed along with the Darksaber in the climax of that fateful battle, had been replaced courtesy of Mand'alor. Her jetpack, which had once more been broken in the fighting, had been repaired a second time and repainted to match the armor. Ezra couldn't help but lose himself as his deep blue eyes locked on her amber ones, and with the sunlight shining on her golden hair and gold/orange armor, to him, and as cheesy as it sounded, she resembled an angel with a divine, shining, radiant aura. He'd completely forgotten to remind himself to try and hide his obvious blush, too obvious to be mistaken for sunburn.

"Hey, they're calling for us in the meeting room," her words brought his focus back to the present, and he nodded, perhaps a bit too strongly and fast. With a light smile, warm and knowing, she gestured for him to follow.

While he still wasn't one to dye his hair or paint his gear, Ezra had by no means stayed the same over the last two years, either. He'd grown even taller since emerging from puberty, now a full four inches taller than Sabine at full height. He'd grown his dark blue hair out once again, tying it back into a pony tail similar to Kanan, though Sabine was grateful for the fact that, unlike his master, Ezra had opted to keep his face clean-shaven instead. He'd swapped out his brick red, short sleeve shirt for a long sleeve one of matching color, with the left sleeve obscuring most of his cybernetic arm, which still appeared virtually the same as the day it had been given to him, but it had undergone numerous modifications and upgrades. Sabine had briefly entertained the idea of making weapons-based modifications to it, but her boyfriend refused to let her get anywhere near it with a hydrospanner or powerwelder, or a paint gun. Also, Ezra had started wearing a light brown, scout jacket fitted with a basic armor underlay and numerous utility pockets. A new, matching utility belt was locked around his waist, with numerous pouches plus a holster for his DL-44 BlasTech pistol on the right, and a clasp for his new, handcrafted, single-hilt lightsaber on his left. A matching set of light-brown cargo pants and black combat boots finished off his ensemble. His chiseled features and sweat-covered brow never ceased to make Sabine conscientiously do whatever she could to hide or stave off a blush, her pride not allowing for anyone to see how easily drawn she was to her boyfriend.

While it was true, they both found the other's physical appearances incredibly attractive, it's what lay beneath the surface that made them seemingly inseparable, knowing each other's hearts and minds, and the more-officiated bond that had been forming between the duo since they had first met nearly five years prior.

"Right! I'll be along in a moment!" after informing the officer on duty he'd be taking his leave, Ezra quickly caught up to Sabine and followed her back inside the temple proper. He walked beside her to her right as they began making their way down a corridor towards the central turbolifts.

"You know we've been dating for over two full years now, right? You're not afraid of me, are you?" she teased once they were out of earshot from the others. Either ignoring or not catching her playful undertone, he quickly offered a sincere rebuttal in a hushed but clear voice as they continued walking.

"No! Of course not! I'm just… afraid of messing up with you?" he meekly offered with a cheesy, unsure grin. She merely closed her eyes and shook her head with a light scoff, a disbelieving smirk gracing her own lips.

" _Please_ , if I'd just pick up and leave because you messed up, I would've left you a _long_ time ago, Ezra Bridger," now, they're positions were somewhat reversed, but rather than a disbelieving smirk meeting her _knowing_ grin, an incredulous expression with mouth agape adorned Ezra's face. After this knowledge sunk in, however, he just smirked and feigned outrage.

"Oh, _well_ then!" Holding his head with chin high and eyes closed, he looked off to his right, opposite of her. A startled gasp escaped him when, in the next instant, he felt her playfully elbow him in the side. He quickly returned the gesture and they both chuckled at one another.

* * *

It was several more minutes of navigating the corridors up several levels through the turbolifts before the young couple finally arrived at the meeting room. Initially when the Rebellion laid claim to the long-abandoned temple, few of the modern technological conveniences a military base would require was present. Just about every current room and corridor had been added by cutting and gutting through much of the ancient halls and chambers, and then adding metal walls, doors, ceilings, and floors where there had once only been stone. Needless to say, electronic systems including wiring was also something that had to be added in the process.

The moment they reached their destination and stepped inside, both Ezra and Sabine were visibly surprised at what awaited them. They expected Hera, who had been promoted to the rank of Brigadier General shortly before the Battle of Scarif, as well as Major General Jan Dodonna, who, like he had at Sandril Base, retained overall command of this newer installation. However, two holograms also stood out of the projector atop the center of the rectangular table, one familiar to the duo, and one not quite as much. Both were clad in the armor of Mandalorian supercommandos, and the one with his helmet off was the one familiar.

"Rau!" Sabine immediately recognized her older ally, who nodded in response, regarding both her and Ezra with a smirk. The other Mandalorian on Rau's left, however, cleared his throat from beneath his helmet, calling the attention of the room and his associate back to him.

"Now that the young ones are here, let's not waste any more time, if you please, generals," his tone suggested he didn't like being kept waiting, and wasn't going to suffer it any longer. Hera acquiesced, knowing the matter at hand was an important one, as did Dodonna.

"Right."

"Of course," the aging, former Imperial agreed. Ezra, however, couldn't help but feel annoyed at the unfamiliar Mandalorian, who he could sense held little respect for the Rebels.

"And just who are you?" the young Knight demanded sharply. In the past, Sabine might have berated him for his tongue, but the others watched as she remained at his side, crossing her arms with a similar expression regarding the unwelcome tone in the unfamiliar, clearly veteran warrior of her people.

"I'd like to know that, myself, actually, and before this goes any further," she raised an inquisitive brow as she pressed, her tone firm. Both she and her boyfriend shifted their focus to Hera, who quickly chimed in.

"Ezra, Sabine, this is Fenn Shysa."

" _Who_?" Ezra was miffed, but Sabine felt her eyes go wide. Rau, however, wasted no time explaining for her.

"He is the leader of Clan Shysa, and the right hand man of Mand'alor himself. He specifically requested both of you be brought before us, young Bridger and young Wren."

"Don't be so lenient where it isn't due, Rau. I didn't _request_ these two be summoned, I _demanded_ it on _his_ orders," his face may have been hidden behind his visor, but Ezra could sense Shysa's eyes scrutinizing both him and Sabine, as well as the mutual feeling of disdain already present. Narrowing his eyes once again, the young Knight spoke up once more.

"Well, you got us, now what do you want?" he could feel Sabine shift her gaze back and forth between him and her superior, as well as the sense of worry building in her, but he wouldn't be deterred so easily.

"Ezra, please…" she began, but was cut off as the older of the two generals interjected, in a bid to ease the obvious, building tension in the room.

"This is a matter of diplomacy, not combat, otherwise we'd be in the command room. If we could please keep this level-headed and civil, I am sure this will be over with without any further discrepancies," as he finished, Hera readily agreed.

"Yes, _of course_ ," giving both Ezra and Sabine her best _'behave right now or else'_ look, she couldn't resist a small smirk of satisfaction as she saw her former crewmates instantly straighten up. Dodonna grinned for all but a moment at the sight while Rau rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. Shifting her focus back to the higher-ranked, veteran Mandalorian, the Twi'lek Rebel officer finished, "Go ahead, Chief Shysa."

"Thank you, General Syndulla, General Dodonna," after acknowledging the two Rebel officers, Mand'alor's favored lieutenant continued, "The one I serve, Mand'alor the Vindicator, has decreed both of these youth are to report to him at the restored capital city of Kadelbe on our homeworld. You are to leave immediately and come alone," completely disregarding the surprised look on the faces of the younger Rebels, Shysa once more regarded both Rebel generals before giving his sendoff, "All right, we're done, here," as he moved to end the transmission, Rau objected.

"Wait! Shouldn't we give more of an explanation, sir?"

"Nope!" and with that, the live holofeed ceased, leaving the four Rebels to sort out the rest.

Both Ezra and Sabine blinked a few times, trying to process the abrupt and stern demands from the Mandalorian officer who'd already taken his and Rau's leave. Hera sighed while shaking her head, but Dodonna mused aloud while scratching his bearded chin in thought.

"That one is never too pleased to be on the line with us, but it's clear he respects the authority of his own leader. Evidently, Mand'alor is insistent on Captains Bridger and Wren coming to the Mandalorian capital regardless of any dissent to the decision in his ranks," the older, former Imperial eyed the young Jedi and Mandalorian curiously. Next, Hera chimed in with her own interjection, glancing between the duo and the Human general.

"Sabine _is_ the Rebellion's official liaison to the Mandalorian Clans, as per Mand'alor's own orders. Still, the fact that he would ask for Ezra as well is… disconcerting," frowning and furrowing her brows in concern, Hera looked back over to Ezra as the latter spoke up once again.

"Why _would_ I be requested by name, and who exactly is this _Mand'alor_ guy, anyway?" the young Knight looked back over to Sabine when he heard her sigh, but saw a good-natured smile graced her lips as she shook her head at his question.

"Remember when I told you Mand'alor is the title of the singular ruler of my people, for which our homeworld is named?" she crossed her arms and waited for her boyfriend to recall the memory, if he could.

Now it was Hera's turn to shake her head with a knowing smile, and Dodonna just observed with a deadpan expression, all while Ezra looked off to the side deep in thought, scrunching his brows. Then, his eyes went wide, the figurative lightbulb flashing over his cranium

"Oh yeah! Right! _Wow_ , so this really _is_ a big deal- hey!" he finished with a whine as his girlfriend playfully punched him in the shoulder again, a new smirk adorning her face. Dodonna decided it was time to wrap this meeting up.

"Well, until we uncover the location of Princess Organa and the plans to the Imperial superweapon that were brought to her ship, our armed forces are effectively grounded. I see no reason why we can't dispatch both Bridger and Wren on a diplomatic mission in the meantime. If things continue to spiral out of hand with the Empire, we may need to rely on our Mandalorian allies for more direct support, anyway," as the older general finished, Hera nodded in agreement. Before her colleague ordered her former crewmates to head out, however, the Twi'lek pilot knew she needed to remind the two of them what was potentially on the line with this turn of events.

"Yes, we can't very well turn down our strongest allies in terms of raw military power. I believe it would be best if Sabine and Ezra leave for Mandalorian space in the _Starbird_ before the rotation ends," after seeing Dodonna return her nod, she continued, "Now, I believe I need a word with the two of them in private, with respect, sir."

"Of course. I trust your judgment, General Syndulla," before departing, however, the former Imperial shifted his gaze to the younger Rebels, his serious expression catching their focus. "I also trust the two of you to represent the Alliance with utmost integrity and professionalism. That means _you_ , Captain Bridger," focusing squarely on Ezra, Dodonna didn't even look amused when the young Jedi's face took on a look of surprise and outrage.

"Oh _come on_! Remember I was on _both_ teams that fought to save your hide when you wanted to defect from the Empire!"

"Ezra!" both Hera and Sabine chastised sharply in unison.

"I certainly do remember, and don't think I'm not grateful, but it's not your ability to come through in a firefight that I'm questioning, here. It's your ability to avoid them," Dodonna didn't even bother acknowledging the miffed, wide-eyed expression on Ezra's face as he turned and left the meeting room without another word, leaving Hera to finish up in his stead as she requested. The moment the doors sealed shut once more, the Twi'lek wasted no time getting right to the point.

"Okay, you two, bear with me for a minute here if you would," she paused to gauge their reaction, and as expected, they both appeared confused and alarmed at her words and serious tone. "Now, I'm aware the two of you agreed that your personal relationship should remain separate from your professional one, and Kanan and I both appreciate your willingness to remain committed to that course of action. However, I'm sure you both realize the importance of keeping it even further under wraps while on Mandalore," focusing her eyes squarely on Sabine, who was beginning to understand the implications of this warning, Hera continued, "Should the ruler of your people find out you're involved with a Jedi, surely you would know better than I what the ramifications could be."

"But I'm not one of the Jedi who served with the Republic! Surely they couldn't blame me for any misgivings with the Order, right?" Ezra chuckled a bit nervously as he tried interjecting with jest, but his hopeful expression fell when he saw the alarmed and severe expression on the face he loved so much. He quickly formed a frown that mirrored her own.

"The entire concept of the Force is against many of the most sacred beliefs of my people, Ezra. The fact that you're a Jedi, and make such easy use of it, alone is more than enough reason to look down on you in their eyes. You may have earned some respect from my clan, but from what I know of Mand'alor, he's fought more than one battle against the Jedi of old in the past. I also heard he's killed a few," she paused, watching his eyes go wide in a twinge of fear at her words. She sighed before continuing, taking his hand in her own, "So, please, please, _please_ show some restraint when in the capital. I'd really hate to have to come back to the base a single woman again," she offered him a laugh and a smile, while not undermining the seriousness of her words. He nodded with a grin while chuckling again, this time more confident. He tightened his hold on her hand and laced their fingers together.

" _Come on_ , give me at least _some_ credit," his grin widened as Sabine and Hera both laughed at the familiar remark, one Kanan frequently gave to Hera whenever she was giving him a warning or advice. The Twi'lek knew it was about time to head out.

"I'll be sure to inform Kanan of this new development at his next check-in," she readily informed them.

* * *

So it was that, after a few hours of preparation, the _Starbird_ was set for takeoff as both Ezra and Sabine boarded their own ship side by side. Originally known as the _Gauntlet_ , the _Kom'rk-_ class patrol ship had undergone much in the way of modifications since Ezra recovered her from Maul's possession on Tatooine in the weeks leading up to the Battle of Atollon. Having been rerouted while on a supply run, she'd been absent from the campaign that culminated over Hutta, entirely. Naturally, Sabine had taken to repainting her hull, choosing a similar appearance to her work with the _Phantom 2_. The worn, fading red exterior had been covered over in multiple layers of white, with streaks of purple and gold added in addition to the orange-gold symbol of a phoenix rising and taking flight. Taking his seat to the right of her own in the co-pilot chair, Ezra saw he barely had to lift a finger; Sabine had wasted little time starting the pre-flight check.

"Sure took you long enough to get down to the hangar," the Mandalorian snidely remarked without even shifting her gaze to face him.

"Hey, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Dawn," the Jedi chuckled innocently, grinning when he saw her smile despite herself, her eyes lighting up at the mention of Hera and Kanan's young child.

"I still can't believe how much she clings to that Lothcat plushie you picked out for her birthday. I have to concede sometimes you _do_ know best," Sabine raised a brow as Ezra scoffed while she enunciated her remark, though she already knew what he was thinking.

"What, are you so certain you _always_ know better than me?"

"Something like that, usually, most of the time," Sabine couldn't help but roll her eyes, stifling a giggle at his annoyed expression.

After she lifted off the tarmac and, as her sublight engines flared up, the modified Mandalorian patrol ship sped off towards the sky above. Her two occupants narrowly missed sight of another vessel that was inbound under escort from two X-Wing fighters, a refitted YT-31000-series light freighter by the name of the _Millenium Falcon_. Neither Ezra, Sabine nor everyone else back down at the base knew it, but a chain of events had been set into motion that would determine the fate of the Rebellion and course this escalating war would take, far sooner than everyone realized.

 **A/N: The stage has been set, and Chapter 2 is already in progress! I expect it to be out within the next two weeks or so. As always, a special thanks to my beta reader, Wikked Grin, for his continued assistance in finalizing these chapters for you all. In addition, I'd also like to thank the very talented fan artist Meldy-Arts for her permission to feature little Dawn Syndulla, daughter of Hera and Kanan as most of you recognize by now if not before.**

 **Of course, another thanks is always extended to each and every one of my readers. Your continued support has been the bulk of my inspiration, and never doubt how much all of you mean to me. Best wishes to everyone, and until next time, may the power of the Force be with us all! ;)**

 **Update 5-28-17: I apologize for the unexpected delay in having Chapter 2 ready for you all. Prior obligations caught up with me, and free time for writing has become more scarce. I can say, however, this is only temporary. I am currently projecting Chapter 2 will be ready in about another week or so at most past the two week mark, that point being this Tuesday. I appreciate your patience as I balance life! It will pay off, soon!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Might of Mandalore

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: My sincerest apologies for the unexpected delay in finishing this latest chapter for you all. What initially seemed like it would take a week or so quickly morphed into a three week endeavor thanks to busy, extenuating circumstances and prior obligations at home. I don't believe the chapters to come will take quite as long, and rest assured, I intend to see this through to the end one way or another, always.**

 **More Mandalorian words are featured in this chapter, as might be expected, and a list of definitions will be provided in the author's note at the end. I suspect this won't be the only time such a feature will be included in a chapter during this story. In addition, those of you who play the mobile game "Star Wars: Commander" may recognize my inclusion of a familiar pain in the ass of a colonel in this chapter, as well. Now, as always, enjoy!**

Chapter 2: The Might of Mandalore

Elsewhere across the Outer Rim, on the underworld haven of Nar Shaddaa, a clandestine meeting was taking place beneath the shining lights and shimmering holosigns and images that lined the cityscape and skyline above. Indoors, the veteran Jedi Knight Kanan Jarrus closely followed a male Quarren by the name of Noda Purungo. He was the man in charge of the impressively-large scale operation that served as the Rebellion's largest source of supplies this side of the Outer Rim. Son of a high-ranking Separatist sympathizer, the tentacled-humanoid alien had escaped Imperial retribution by going underground in Hutt space after the end of the Clone Wars, eventually establishing enough of his own network to open up shop on the infamous "Smuggler's Moon". Eventually, when one of his contacts revealed the growing Rebellion against the Empire was seeking to establish supply route from the galactic underworld to their paramilitary operations, Noda didn't require much convincing to reach out to do business with the would-be freedom fighters. The notion of the fighting to restore the Old Republic by itself disgusted him, truth be told, but the Quarren admitted to himself he despised the Empire even more, and getting some payback at them was well worth sacrificing some of his own pride.

After showing Kanan the primary warehouse behind the shop that acted as a front for his operation, Noda led the Jedi Knight down through a turbolift that let out at an enclosed docking facility. Both labor droid crews and dockworker teams toiled away, hauling freight of both standard goods and contraband onto two Gallofree GR5-series freighters, both of which currently occupied half of the four docking bays side by side in the center of the facility. Quite aware that Kanan lacked physical eyesight, but knowing from past experience with Jedi that his guest should have little difficultly seeing through the Force, the Quarren spoke up once he was convinced Kanan had been given a decent enough tour of the operation.

~"I trust that last shipment of proton torpedoes arrived on time as my best crew reported?"~

"Huh? Oh, yes! They arrived on time without incident on our end," the blind Jedi Knight affirmed, the words of his host pulling him from his thoughts. Having noticed this from over his shoulder, Noda came to a stop and turned to face his guest.

~"You've been looking off to your left since we arrived down here. Is something wrong?"~ the Quarren titled his head to the side as he inquired curiously. Sighing, Kanan faced Noda fully and explained himself.

"I'm sorry, I know this is official business. I just can't shake the feeling we're being watched by someone, or _something_ , outside the cargo port, down here, in that direction."

~"I assure you, Master Jedi, I've spared no expense to ensure my facility is protected from any outside listening devices, and security droids keep the perimeter secure of the local rift-raft. This is a very busy sector, like most of the moon. Perhaps your subconscious Jedi senses have fallen out of practice while moving from one faintly-populated locale to the next over all these years?"~

Kanan couldn't help but 'eye' Noda curiously at the suggestion, but sighed after thinking about it for a moment. Perhaps the street-wise alien had a point, it wasn't often he visited such a densely populated world, especially an ecumenopolis, or city-world, like Nar Shaddaa. Of course, even seemingly barren worlds like Atollon held much life in the form of plants and animals, but the actions of sentients were often far easier to sense at a distance.

"You may be right, perhaps I'm being too paranoid. Please, let's continue," the Jedi Knight acquiesced to his host, whose mood notably perked up in response as he clasped his tentacled hands together in enthusiasm.

~"Splendid! Now, I do believe it was your General Syndulla who inquired about more fuel cells…"~

* * *

While Kanan and Noda continued their inspection/conference out of sight within the confines of the hidden supply port, across the chasm just outside the docking bays, amidst the skyline far in the distance, one of the noticeably smaller skyscrapers capped off in a dome roof with a large focusing dish on a pivot. However, it was not rotating in this instant. The antenna was securely in place, focused squarely on honing into the frequency of a lone comm system, that of the supply port.

Within the upper levels of the building in question, two humanoid figures donned in black and crimson robes worked side by side. They were also clad in silver armor chestplates along with matching silver and black armored helmets and masks in the façade of adolescent krayt dragon skills were at a dimly-lit computer terminal, the one on the left seated and operating the computer, while the one on the right stood over his shoulder, watching rather intently.

* * *

It had taken four standard days of travel before the _Starbird_ finally dropped out of hyperspace over Mandalore. It had been well over two years since the young Jedi and Mandalorian duo had set foot on the surface, Sabine never being summoned back despite her official role as liaison between the True Mandalorians and the Rebellion. In fact, the singular ruler of the Mandalorian people who had tasked her with this charge after the unmasking and slaying of Gar Saxon had never spoken to her even over holocall, seemingly always preferring Fenn Rau serve as the middle man, a sort of liaison to a liaison, as odd as that sounded.

Having had plenty of time to think about it during the voyage, Sabine truly realized for the first time this whole arrangement combined with the abrupt summoning was indeed very much unusual. Having been kept busy with her duties in the Rebellion and her growing relationship with Ezra, she'd never mulled over it entirely until now, and she had a pretty good idea why Mand'alor the Vindicator was keeping her at distance all this time. Also having decided there was no point to keep her concerns a secret, she confided them in Ezra. As if on cue, he brought the issue back into the forefront of her mind as they neared the orbital task force acting as the first line of defense for the planet, which consisted of an impressive line of multiple _Kadelbe_ -class battleships and at least a couple dozen _Crusader_ -class corvettes.

"So, you really think this Mand'alor is holding the fact your clan was in Death Watch against you? Weren't they defeated when you were still young?" as he inquired sincerely in an earnest tone, he didn't take his gaze off the naval forces in the distance, which they were approaching steadily. The couple were expecting a transmission from the lead battleship any moment now.

"When I was still an infant, in fact," Sabine clarified, warily eyeing the formation of naval vessels herself with a cautious, studying gaze. She continued after a brief pause, "It's like I said earlier, this Mand'alor was the one who led the loyalists against Death Watch, who were trying to usurp the throne and dissolve the code of conduct hallowed by our ancestors since the earliest days of the clans."

"That being the Resol'nare*, right?" Ezra asked without delay, recalling when she had explained that detail to him before. Sabine glanced at him for a moment to nod with an affirming smile. She continued again after shifting her focus back out the viewport.

"Yes. Suffice to say, the Mand'alor you and I are being called in to meet was not exactly merciful with defectors acting against the revered traditions and laws of our people. Rau told me even the mere sight of someone in Death Watch wearing Mandalorian armor offended him, as he regarded all of them as Dar'manda*."

"Meaning, soulless, betrayer, or both?" Ezra inquired again. This time Sabine nodded without turning to face him.

"That's pretty much it…" her brows furrowed slightly, worry becoming evident from her tone and expression. Ezra opened his mouth to try and reassure her, but at that exact moment, the lead battleship hailed them over the comm system. Sabine immediately moved to take the call and respond. The voice of an officer on the calling vessel quickly filled the cockpit.

"Attention Rebel craft, you have entered a restricted area. Transmit your transponder codes now, or we shall be forced to act with all haste and means to remove you from our sovereign territory," the tone was strict, by the book, and left no room for quarter. Sabine was, however, ready to respond in kind.

"Command Ship _Nasreyc_ *, this is the _Starbird_. We're expected at the capital city, Kadelbe. I believe you guys should find everything in order," as she finished, she was already punching in the requested codes. It wasn't long before the voice on the other line gave the all clear.

"Very well, you check out. Proceed immediately to these coordinates and don't stray from city airspace. Over and out."

"Well, here goes nothing…" the young woman trailed off as she piloted the _Starbird_ past the task force and into the upper atmosphere. The young man let out a breath he'd unknowingly been holding in.

* * *

The capital city of Kadelbe, easily the oldest location of settlement standing on the adopted homeworld of the Mandalorian people, stood towering on a plateau near the center of the northeastern continent on the largely temperate Outer Rim planet. While during the Clone Wars and the years leading up to it, the newer commercial and diplomatic center of Sundari had served as capital during the reign of Duchess Satine Kryze, and the brief stint where Death Watch had ruled by way of de-facto dictatorship under Maul, after the Siege of Mandalore during the final year of the Clone Wars, which also saw the end of the Third Mandalorian Civil War, Mand'alor the Vindicator decided the victorious loyalists would retake Kadelbe as their seat of power. Its buildings and fortifications a symmetric mixture of masonry stone and welded metallic structures, Kadelbe was an iconic representation of ancient warrior culture melded with modern society and convenience.

As they were led into the throne room, the couple took in their surroundings, immediately recognizing at least two dozen guards standing as silent sentinels on both sides of the large, rectangular chamber, every other one holding a glimmering vibroblade halberd in their hands, and the ones in between those with what could only be described as top of the line blaster rifles. Ezra couldn't recognize the symbols on the colorful tapestried banners displayed over the heads of the guards, but from what he knew of Mandalorian culture courtesy of Sabine, he would have to guess they were the symbols and insignias of the clans represented under the True Mandalorian name. Curiously to him, nothing that looked it was from Clans Viszla or Wren was present. In between each banner were modern sconces with durasteel frames. The walls were comprised of thick layers of stone, and the only set of windows were located at the midway point down the chamber, encased in frames and bars of the same metal as the sconces. Fenn Shysa led them along down the center of the chamber, a crimson red, embroidered rug marking the way to the throne.

Mand'alor's second-in-command had met them at the docking bay the _Starbird_ touched down in a few blocks from the city center. The Chieftain of Clan Shysa was clad in standard supercommando armor colored navy blue with a matching jetpack. The rims of his helmet visor along with his shoulderplates, gauntlets, and shinguards were all painted deep yellow. The bodysuit he wore underneath was a noticeably lighter blue, olive drab in color. His utility belt was brown and he had two Westar-36 blaster pistols holstered on his hips, and a custom-built, rapid-fire blaster rifle stowed on the right engine of his jetpack.

A bronzium-cast throne with crimson red cushioning stood atop a small set of proscenium stairs at the end of the chamber, twin black and silver banners of the Skull of Ji'ang, the identifying symbol for the True Mandalorians since their early days under Jaster Mereel, draping down from the back wall on either side. Glancing over his shoulder at Ezra and Sabine as they stopped at the foot of the stairs, Shysa walked up and over to the right side of the throne, to the left in their vision. He stood tall and didn't spare them a glance as, after an uncomfortable moment of silence, the swish of a door opened off behind the shadow to his left down the stairs and beyond the throne. Mand'alor stepped in just seconds later, carrying himself with purpose. Both the young Jedi and Mandalorian got their first clear glimpses of him as he stepped into the light, walking up the stairs to stand in front of his throne.

His armor was that of a typical supercommando in the absence of a jetpack, as he often didn't take it with him for formal diplomatic gatherings. However, it stood out as being entirely in its standard chrome finish, with absolutely no trace of paint to distinguish clan, rank, or personal touch anywhere. It gleamed and shone in the light of the sconces, in stark contrast to his black bodysuit encasing his chiseled form underneath the armor. Similarly, his utility belt and the rims of his helmet visor were a matching black. On his right hip, a custom-built Westar-34 blaster pistol, the very same from the set once used by Jango Fett, was holstered snugly away. On his right, an ancient vibrosword with a cortosis weave commonly referred to as a Sith Tremor Sword, no doubt a prize from an era of war long past, was sheathed in place.

"Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, welcome to Mandalore, as well as to Kadelbe and my throne room. I do hope my loyal subordinates haven't made your trek here any more difficult than it needs to be," the his tone suggested a warm welcome and the tidings of a gracious host, Ezra could sense the singular ruler of the Mandalorian people sharply scrutinizing them from behind his helmet visor, just as Shysa had done over hologram just a few days prior. This time, however, the pair of eyes that studied them weren't full of doubt or disapproval. The unmoving neutrality of this moment held much more uncertainty, and that unnerved rather than annoyed the young Jedi.

The young man felt his girlfriend bring her left hand to his right, and encourage him to join her in kneeling in a show of respect to Mand'alor. He hesitated, but reluctantly followed suit as she clearly wanted after just another moment. Despite lowering his head alongside her own, he felt his brows furrow as he heard Shysa scoff at their gesture, as if offended at seeing them behave as two of the group. If Mand'alor held any doubts or misgivings about the gesture of respect, he certainly didn't make it known. A simple and sharp raise of his hand, the back of his armored glove facing them, and he signaled the duo the return to their feet. Ezra and Shysa focused their glares on one another as Sabine extended pleasantries to her leader.

"Mand'alor the Vindicator, it is an honor and a privilege to meet you, sir. I cannot even begin to thank you for appointing me as representative to the Rebellion, or allowing me use of multiple relics and gear of our people from ages past, sir!"

"It was my hope you'd learn to appreciate where those gifts came from and the significance of their origins, young Wren. Now, if you'd be so kind as to introduce me to your boyfriend, here. He and my first lieutenant seem intent on completing their glaring contest before shifting their attention back to either of us or the matter at hand," while his casual reference to Ezra as her boyfriend caught her off-guard, Sabine quickly looked over to her left and locked eyes with Ezra, who'd been pulled out of his visual standoff with Shysa by Mand'alor's words same as the veteran officer had.

At this point, Mand'alor's words regarding his reasoning behind allowing her usage of traditional and iconic Mandalorian relics and gear, such as the Darksaber and her vambraces, the kind typically worn by supercommandos, had sunk into her mind, as had the way they were ordered and spoken stuck out to her. _"Hoped I'd learn to appreciate? What?"_ the young Mandalorian didn't have much time to dwell on the implications before Ezra spoke up, instead.

"W-what? What would make you think I'm her _boyfriend_?" the young Jedi Knight attempted to laugh off the term dismissively, but it was clear neither Mand'alor nor Shysa or anyone else present would be believing the attempted deception. The ruler of the Mandalorian people sat back in his throne, crossing his arms as he did so, as if surprised at Ezra's choice of words. He replied in an explanative, even tone that asserted his knowledge and authority on the matter.

"Do you believe I am blind to everything that goes on outside my territory, Ezra Bridger? That is your name, yes? I've been aware for some time now that you and my chosen ambassador to your Rebellion, here, are involved in a manner constituting a romantic relationship. The implications of what this means for our continued alliance with your superiors aside, I must admit it has given me more to reflect on regarding her clan, who failed to report this to me," he paused for a moment as Sabine shot her head up, her look no doubt one of shock under her helmet, "And before either of you try to deny it, yes, I am also well aware they know about your involvement with one another, as well."

"Mand'alor, sir, please, if I could just bring them here, I'm sure my mother and father would be able to explain to you why-," Sabine frantically tried to ease the situation, but was quickly interrupted by Shysa.

"Your clan is not permitted on Mandalore, Sabine Wren. Their compound on Krownest is all they've been afforded. They are not permitted to travel off-world within our sovereign space without our discretion or escort," the leader of Clan Shysa didn't even take a moment to acknowledge her as she was taken aback at this revelation as he elaborated, "In addition, we have around-the-clock surveillance and routine inspections on Krownest to make sure they don't defy the will of Mand'alor or our ancestors _ever_ again."

" _What?!_ Is this true, sir?" the daughter of Clan Wren shifted her focus back to Mand'alor, who merely sighed, as if uninterested in abating her concern.

"You are aware as well as I am that your clan aligned with Death Watch during the last civil war against the throne and the Resol'nare. Frankly, I was reluctant to accept _any_ of their survivors back into our ranks after the war ended. I was tempted to exterminate the lot of them, including your mother and father. And before you ask, the reason they never informed you of these restrictions is because they were duly instructed not to. The fact that I allowed what remained of your family to stay alive and live within our borders is a courtesy I had no obligation to give them or you. Dar'manda such as them killed many of those who served at my side."

"And you and your kind killed many of _them_!" her pride having taken a rigorous beating, Sabine spat out her reply with venom before she could stop herself. The guards looked over and Shysa stomped his right foot down as he stepped forward. Mand'alor remained still and observant, however, as Ezra, for the first time in a long while, was the one to eye her frustration with concern. After a moment of tense, unmoving silence, the young couple shifted their focus to Shysa, who began reaching to unclasp the rifle stowed on the left of his jetpack, but another raised hand from Mand'alor halted him.

"That won't be necessary, friend," he stood back up as he spoke, and both Ezra and Sabine didn't take their eyes off his helmet, or his hands, as he returned to his feet, towering over them. "Indeed, it's true, many of your clan and those they called allies have perished by my hand, but I have no need nor any desire to justify my actions to you. You are a mere child of dar'manda, a turncoat who followed in the footsteps of her elder kin against the most hallowed and sacred traditions of her people," as her ruler admonished her, Sabine felt a mixture of fear and outrage, not liking being talked down to, but also knowing how she responded would reflect on her entire clan. Ezra, however, beat her to the punch.

"Wait a minute! Sabine was just a baby when your civil war ended! How can you blame her for the choices her clan made back then?" upon sensing the eyes of Mand'alor focus squarely on him, Ezra couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He'd never felt this unnerved under the eyes of a Mandalorian ever before, except perhaps Sabine when she was angry, even when it wasn't at him.

"You're right, I can't hold the past actions of her clan against her. However, I can hold any teachings of the treacherous Viszla brothers passed onto her by her kin against her, as well as actions against the code she took of her own volition from the moment she was old enough to think and act for herself," returning his focus to her now, he furrowed his brows further before continuing, "I'd believed perhaps you'd begin to redeem yourself if afforded the patience and opportunity I'd provide you within your Rebellion, but you've merely faltered even further as time has gone by. Now, you even lay down with one of _their_ kind!" as he growled in frustration, he pointed his right index figure squarely on Ezra, not taking his contentious gaze off of her, "You have the audacity clad yourself in the armor of our people while being involved with _that_ besom*!"

"Hey! I have no idea what that means, but hey!" Ezra complained indignantly, but on her end, Sabine was absolutely fuming at this point. Her next set of words slipped out before she could even begin to stop herself. The implications of them would set the course that would determine the future of her relationship with Ezra, the future of her place amongst her people, and the role of her people in the escalating war against the Empire. Shooting off the floor and onto her feet in the blink of an eye, she was quite livid with every word, to say the least.

"We didn't travel for four days through hyperspace to be berated by anyone, even _you_ , _sir_!" she snarled sarcastically, acid dripping in her tone. This time, the guards turned their whole bodies to face the throne, raising their weapons in the process. Ezra didn't miss this sight as he looked over his shoulder.

"Uhh… Sabine…?" the young Jedi tried whispering to her warily, to no avail. If he wasn't absolutely certain he'd be shot dead on the spot, he'd be reaching for his lightsaber right now. Sabine didn't even seem to notice, or care, that Shysa was pulling out his blaster rifle just as he had intended to before, and this time, Mand'alor was making no effort to stop him.

"I feel no need to explain myself or what Ezra is or is not to you or anyone else, here! What he and I am to each other and my commitment to my worth as a warrior is _not_ something I take lightly, and I _will_ prove the validity of what I speak to you, anytime, anywhere!"

"I'm ready to terminate them on your word, sir!" Shysa didn't wait for any pause once she was finished before affirming his readiness to open fire to his superior, who once again raised his hand to tell everyone present to stand down.

"I know you are, but that won't be necessary I think, _just_ yet at any rate," Mand'alor didn't take his fierce gaze off Sabine as he spoke, but he paused for a moment to dart his eyes over to Ezra and back to her before continuing. The look in the boy's own eyes as he himself looked back and forth between the Mandalorian ruler and his girlfriend was rather telling after a momentary glance. "Is that a challenge, Sabine Wren?"

"What?" was her quick and somewhat hesitant reply. She nearly recoiled as the reality of her words began to sink in.

"You said you'd be willing to prove the validity of your relationship with this boy and prove your worth as a warrior to me anytime, anywhere. Is. That. A _challenge_?" Mand'alor clarified in a pronounced and stern tone, enunciating the final word as he leaned in slightly, seemingly towering over the couple before him even more. It was another moment of tense, uncertain silence, and all eyes were on Sabine as she recollected herself and gave her honest answer.

"Yes, it is."

At this point, Ezra didn't know what to be concerned about more, the implicative words of his girlfriend, or the smirk in satisfaction he could sense forming behind Mand'alor's visor in response to them. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath as he waited for whatever would happen next. Finally, Mand'alor spoke up once again, crossing his arms over his chestplate as he stood back up straight, not taking his eyes off his 'guests'.

"All right, I say we have an agreement, then," not even bothering to elaborate to the two Rebels, the veteran ruler of the Mandalorian people looked over to Shysa, who was only just now beginning to lower the barrel of his rifle. The loyal clan leader caught his gaze and his superior continued, "Shysa, that supply run to our outpost on Dxun scheduled to depart today? I want a higher level escort prepped immediately, as I'll be joining it and bringing these two along with me. Also, inform Kuervo that he'll be accompanying us. I leave our core systems and command of our forces to you in our absence."

"As you command, sir! I'll make ready immediately!" the moment his affirmation was done, Shysa spun on his heel and quickly departed without another word.

"Wait, Dxun?!" Sabine had instantly recognized the name. The infamous jungle moon of Onderon, the latter of which was itself securely under Imperial occupation. That system was along the very border of Mandalorian space, and that moon with a history intertwined with her people going back many thousands of years. It was no place for anyone unprepared, to say the least. Mand'alor returned his gaze to her, and finally elaborated.

"That's right. Any true warrior of worth in my ranks does not fear the perils, there. I am well aware you never completed your Verd'gotten* when you were of age, Sabine Wren. Consider this the first step to undoing your mistakes," the singular ruler of Mandalore explained as a matter of fact, and while it was clear from Ezra's perspective Sabine understood what was going on, the poor outsider was himself at quite a loss.

"Wait a minute! What's _Dxun_? What's a _Verd'gotten_?!" the young Jedi Knight asked urgently, his head darting back and forth again between his girlfriend and her leader, this time more frantically. For the first time in several minutes, Sabine allowed her gaze to meet his once more. There wouldn't be much time for further explanation or answers, however, before their next flight lifted off.

* * *

The moment the armada high above entered their sensor range after dropping out of hyperspace, Hera and the rest of the personnel at the base built into the Great Temple on Yavin 4 knew the time for celebration in the wake of the Death Star's destruction was well and truly over. The Star Destroyer leading the fleet had been quickly identified as the _Devastator_ , personal flagship of Darth Vader himself. The Twi'lek general sighed while shaking her head. She knew it was too much to hope the Dark Lord responsible for hounding their cause since the beginning would perish in the blast.

She remained calm and collected in the command room with General Jan Dodonna and Princess Leia Organa as live updates on the situation were relayed to them. However, it wasn't until word came in that the first dropships touched down across the ravine in the jungle to the east that the feeling of dread sunk into her. Preparations for the evacuation had been well underway, but they hadn't enough time to successfully mine the ancient stone bridge leading over that ravine. The Imperial Army was on its way, and with that knowledge, Hera's eyes widened as the reality of what that meant sunk in, for her personally. _"Dawn...!"_

* * *

All the while, across the bridge and ravine in question, TIE fighter squadrons soared overhead as Incom CF-6-series dropships offloaded the first four battalions of the 501st had already disembarked, mobile barricades and autoturrets being set up around the landing zone, or LZ, particularly on their side of the ancient stone bridge that led across the ravine into Rebel territory. AT-ST walkers along with TX-140 and 2-M5 repulsorlift tanks clanked and hummed as they moved past the squads, preparing to take point when the march across the bridge began. Each Stormtrooper was clad in the familiar all-white armor with a black bodyglove underneath, but as these were troopers of the 50st, dark blue lines and patterns were painted on and along the white plates, harkening back to the days when the legion had served with matching colors during the Clone Wars decades prior.

It was outside the last dropship where a large formation of troopers wearing a black and grey variation of the standard Jet Trooper armor assembled together. They stood aside respectfully as their commanding officer moved forward, studying the jungle before them across the ravine intently. Pulling out and activating a holoreciever, the officer entered a holocall with his own superior. The man who was on the other end of the call was an aging Human with greying hair and light skin with a moderate tan. His rank plague signified his status as a colonel in the Imperial Army, and he stood stout with his officer's cap on straight and his hands clasped behind his back. He also stood safely away from the battlefield up in orbit in the comm room on the _Devastator_.

"Colonel Kosh, the Wingguard and I are at the LZ. We're locked and loaded, ready for orders, sir!" Volker Nostromo saluted in respect to his familiar superior officer. Clad from head to toe in pitch back, flexible armored plating with matching pants, undershirt, utility belt, and helmet, the younger Human male was also largely concealed beneath a black cloak and a matching half-mask covering the lower half of his face from under the bridge of his nose, an eerily similar ensemble choice to a certain foe of the Rebellion defeated a couple of years prior. He also wore matching combat boots and gloves with wrist devices, and a rank plague signified his official status as captain in the Imperial Army. Two Westar-34 blaster pistols were holstered at his hips, and a force pike, similar to those used by the Imperial Guardsmen, was strapped to his back. His own skin was light, less tanned than Kosh, with blue eyes and neatly trimmed and combed dark blonde hair. The young man was noted as a decorated veteran and field commander of the Wingguard, an elite division of Imperial Jet Troopers with a record of additional training and numerous accomplished missions.

"Very good, captain. Admiral Ozzel has left the ground assault to me, and we're doing things by the book like we discussed. The basics of the battle plan remain in effect; our scouts indicate that intel was surprisingly on point for such an abrupt deployment. Proceed along their northern flank while Commander Rastan and the 501st move up through the center line. Provide support as needed and meet up with the commander outside the entrance to their base. Lord Vader wants their command staff captured alive if possible. Air support will keep their fighters occupied, just focus on eliminating all ground resistance."

"It will be done, sir!" Volker stated with a nod before the transmission ceased. Turning back to face the troopers under his command, the officer relayed his own instructions and words of encouragement.

"You heard the colonel, men. Our task is before us, those responsible for the demise of our brothers and sisters on the Death Star are over that bridge, waiting for justice to catch up with them whether they realize it or not! Follow me, that we may defend our fellows who need us out there and mete out punishment to this so-called _Rebellion_!"

"We follow and obey, Captain Nostromo!" one of the troopers in front affirmed instantly.

"Glory to the Empire!" another replied.

Sharing a nod with his entire division in near perfect unison, Volker turned back, facing the bridge and the jungle beyond as the march began. Unclasping his cloak with one hand, the masked Imperial officer quickly discarded the material, tossing it into the air off to the side. His full suit of black body armor now revealed, his high-powered jetpack, strapped on the back of his chestplate, was in full view along with it. Pressing a button on his left wrist device, two adjacent wings shot out on the pack and the boosters flared to life. The troopers around and behind him then revealed their jetpacks operated identically.

"Let's fly!" steeling his body and hardening his expression, Volker led the way as he and the Wingguard blasted off into the air over the ravine as the 501st met the first of the Rebel line on the other side of the bridge. The final battle for Yavin had begun.

* * *

So it was that as the forces of the Empire and the Rebellion moved to clash once more on the field of battle, elsewhere in the Outer Rim, a group of four Mandalorian starships, two TZ-86 transports and two _Crusader_ -class corvettes, were barreling through hyperspace en route to Dxun. Mandatory regulations required Ezra and Sabine be given separate rooms to bunk in for the duration of the voyage, and Mand'alor had decided no exceptions were to be made for the young couple. From where he slept alone in a room with double bunk beds, the privacy afforded to him by the fact the transport he was on was being operated by a skeleton crew, the silence of the dark room belied the unrest occurring within the subconscious mind of the young Jedi.

 _Surrounded by shadow & thick, encompassing fog, Ezra's deep blue eyes snapped open as he darted his head around frantically. He willed his limbs to move, his mouth to speak, but it was if he were trapped in place, his voice stolen from his throat. The telltale sign of footsteps off to his right alerted him to the silhouettes of humanoid figures, enshrouded through the fog, marching and running out of sight, like soldiers on the field of battle. The sounds of bombs, missiles, and energy blasts sounded off in the distance all around him as a matching group of silhouettes appeared on his left. The roar of starship engines & the hum of repulsorlift craft sounded above and behind him. Then, as if from somewhere far beyond, the image of a man in silver with a face hidden in shadow emerged dead ahead in his sights between the obscured formations. When his gaze focused solely on Ezra, the young Jedi once again willed himself to try and do something. He tried to flail his arms, shout and scream, but nothing could be done as he felt the unfamiliar stare bore into him and go through his very mind and body. Then, as quickly as he appeared, the man in silver turned and left without uttering a word, either, vanishing back into the shadow and fog, and leaving Ezra surrounded as the chaos closed in. _

Waking up in a chilled sweat with wide eyes and heavy, heaving gasps, Ezra shot up in his bunk. He struggled to catch his breath as he pressed a hand to his forehead. It was _cold_ , _he_ was cold.

 **A/N:**

 **Mando'a Words:**

Resol'nare: The code of conduct all Mandalorian warriors must live by, the core values of honor for the entire culture. In the EU, the original incarnation of Death Watch sought to remove this from Mandalorian culture, reducing them to a society of barbaric criminals and raiders. Loyalist forces eventually defeated them.

Dar'manda: One who lives outside adherence to the Resol'nare, synonymous with betrayer, traitor, or soulless. Someone who is Dar'manda is held in the lowest regard by traditional Mandalorian society.

Nasreyc: Resolute, determined.

Besom: A filthy, uncouth, unclean, ignorant, or uncivilized individual.

Verd'gotten: The rite of passage all Mandalorian youth aspiring to become warriors must pass. Traditionally, it involves an extreme survivalist trial in the deadly wilderness on the jungle moon of Onderon, Dxun.

 **Edit 1: Now, just to clarify to avoid confusion, I'm going by the events of the EU prior to TPM where Jango Fett was Mand'alor after being taken in and raised by Jaster Mereel, the previous Mand'alor and founder of the True Mandalorian faction, the loyalists who opposed the original incarnation of Death Watch. I understand there is some debate in the "new canon" as to whether or not the Fetts were actually Mandalorians and frankly it has no bearing on this either way.**

 **Those of you who have been keeping up with my series thus far know I prefer trying to meld what I believe to be the better parts of the EU into the "new canon", and this story will be no exception. So simply put, in my continuity Death Watch was always the enemy before and during the Clone Wars for all other Mandalorians and this current Mand'alor took command after Jango fell at Geonosis after the latter abdicated his rule. He eventually accepted a number of former Death Watch survivors back into his ranks like Clan Wren, but he treats them at arm's length and refuses to accept them as equals.**

 **I'm pretty sure most of you can guess what is coming in the next chapter. Our young Rebels arrive on Dxun while Hera and her daughter have to face the perils of war as the Empire closes in to avenge the Death Star. Kanan won't take the news his family back at the base is in danger all that lightly, to be sure. Trials await and a battle remains to be won, or survived!**

 **Now, Chapter 3 should be ready in a week or two, and that's when and where the events of this story will begin in earnest. Once again, my thanks to each and every one of you for your continued support! :)**

 **Edit 2: I made some minor sentencing corrections I feel were necessary based on a recent suggestion.**


	3. Chapter 3: War-Torn

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: Well now, a new update back near the 2 week mark like it used to be. The Second Battle of Yavin is underway, and the arrival on Dxun is imminent. From here on out, little will be as it seems, at least for some key aspects. Keep your eyes open, everyone. ;) Now, let's begin!**

Chapter 3: War-Torn

An hour had passed since the Imperial landing parties made first contact with the defensive lines outside the Great Temple, the Rebellion's base on Yavin 4. A full standard hour of non-stop combat, with blaster bolts flying, missiles rocketing, grenades detonating, and explosions rattling in and around the ruins that once made up the ceremonial complex outside the front entrance to the temple. Beside the crumbling remains of an aqueduct, one of the Rebels' anti-infantry tower turret emplacements continued blasting away at any Imperial in sight, its gunner exposed but at a safe distance from most ground units below. However, the soldier was too distracted by searching for targets beneath his perch to notice Captain Volker Nostromo had taken position within the canal of the aqueduct ruins behind him.

By the time the gunner noticed the Imperial officer on his scanners, it was too late. Using the propulsion of his jetpack, Volker leaped straight through the air and onto the barrel of the turret before it could be properly aimed, and a quick yet strong and precise jab of his force pike nearly took the Rebel's head off at the neck, killing the unfortunate soldier almost instantly. Wasting no time as more explosions went off in the background, Volker hopped into the turret and used his free arm to toss the dead man out while one of his men rocketed up to him, grabbing onto the ledge of the turret and planting both feet on the armored, cylindrical canopy.

"Sir, update! Their central line is shattered! The stragglers are in retreat back to their rear. Orders?!"

"Take over here and give us some cover as we advance to the fountain up ahead. Rastan and his unit are holding there in preparation for the assault on the airfield. Join up with us once the area is secure, and make sure you disable this thing before you do in case a holdout comes back to it!"

"Understood!"

The trooper quickly climbed over and into the turret to take over as Volker leapt out and rocketed away back towards the ground, meeting up with the Wingguard after using one of his Mandalorian pistols to blast a couple Rebel soldiers attempting to set an ambush in the dense foliage nearby.

* * *

Meanwhile, within the command room inside the Great Temple, it was apparent to the three Rebel officers present that they would need to step up the evacuation, or risk losing more than they had prepared to. General Dodonna looked visibly disturbed as the live holofeed of the battle on the table before them.

"We've had nearly two years to hunker down and mount our defenses, draw up battle plans, set traps, and the damn bastards reach our doorstep in but a single hour?!" he clenched his teeth as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. Next, the princess added her commentary at the sight playing out in front of them.

"My father used to tell me stories about how the 501st Legion was the best in the Grand Army of the Republic. He said a few of their troopers defected rather than remain loyal to the Empire, like Captain Rex. Apparently, not nearly enough to make a difference for their effectiveness in battle," as she finished solemnly, Leia saw General Syndulla look over to her, and the princess promptly shifted her gaze to meet the veteran Rebel leader.

"Your highness, with respect, I believe it's time we get you to a ship. I know you wanted more time to oversee the evacuation, but we can't afford to lose you a second time. With Senator Organa gone, you and Lady Mothma are now the only faces of the Rebellion left," as the Twi'lek general's words resonated in her mind, and after sighing with closed eyes and a lowered head, Leia looked back up to Hera's urgent expression and resolutely offered her a deal.

"Fine, I'll evacuate, but I need you to do something as well, General Syndulla."

"And that is?" Hera inquired as Dodonna looked on with an arched eyebrow.

"Go get your daughter and then get on a ship out of here as well, preferably your own. Dawn needs to leave as well, and she shouldn't have to grow up without a mother," this time, it was Leia's turn to give Hera a serious and urgent expression. After recollecting herself, allowing but a hint of worry to flash through her eyes, Hera shook her head weakly in dismissal.

"No, I can't. My work here isn't done. I'll send for someone to secure Dawn, and-"

"No, General Syndulla, the princess is right. You and she both need to be on your way out, right now. I'll handle what remains of our defenses," Dodonna interrupted, finality in his voice, no room for compromise. Still, Hera attempted to object.

"But, sir, are you certain? What about you?" both Hera and Leia adopted concerned looks, but Dodonna merely chuckled dismissively.

"I'm not planning on dying just yet, but if worse comes to worse, better the Rebellion lose an old fossil like me than younger, capable and inspirational individuals like yourselves," he told the two women sincerely, and they reluctantly agreed.

"Very well, but I don't think there's room left on the transports. I suppose I'll go see if that two-bit smuggler and his Wookiee have space for another passenger," the princess remarked snidely and Hera smirked in response. The brief respite from the dire situation the three Rebel leaders faced was quickly shattered as the alarms sounded, and the live holofeed on the table in front of them confirmed why.

"Damnit! They've breached the temple perimeter! They're on the tarmac outside the main hangar!" Dodonna couldn't help but slam a fist onto the rim of the table in frustration as the Twi'lek offered her own grim analysis.

"The blast doors on the hangar are sealed, but they won't hold forever."

"Get going, _now_!" the aging, former Imperial cut in urgently, "You both need to evacuate now or you're not going to!"

After nodding in reply, both General Hera Syndulla and Princess Leia Organa exchanged mutually uncertain, yet resolved, glances.

* * *

One by one, the Rebel soldiers stationed outside the temple found their best efforts simply weren't enough. Steadily moving between cover on their way forward, be it a stack of cargo crates or support vehicle, the stormtroopers of the 501st advanced down the tarmac with the blast doors in sight. A group of T1-B repulsorlift tanks blocked the way forward to the doors, and their quadlaser batteries effectively cut off the infantry advance, much to the relief of the Rebel holdouts scattered about. The 501st trooper sporting an orange pauldron on his right shoulder, Commander Rastan, knew from his crouched perch behind and overturned hovercart with a couple of his unit, that more firepower was needed to press forward any further. While taking a pause to reload his E-11 blaster rifle, the field officer shouted into the comm unit built into his helmet as blasts and explosions sounded all around him, an occasional body or two on both sides hitting the ground.

"We need TX-140's up here, on the double! They got their own craft barring the access point! Nostromo! Bring up the rear and lock down our position! Do _not_ let them flank you!"

"Copy that! Armor, inbound!" the voice of a tank pilot replied over the comm channel.

"We're on route already, sir! Approximate time of arrival estimated in thirty seconds!" Volker affirmed immediately after.

"Be on guard with your troopers, captain! Their quadlasers will blast you out of the sky if you let them!" Rastan gave a hasty warning, and not a moment too soon.

"Understood, over and out!"

The moment the elite jet troopers were in their sights, the turrets atop the T1-B tanks turned their laser cannons on them instead. Any Rebel holdouts attempting to disrupt the airborne advance from the ground had either been cut down or scattered. Once they cleared the treetops and rocketed over the tarmac below, the Wingguard entered the range of their enemies up ahead. Using his free hand, Volker drew a grenade from his utility belt and lobbed it in the air ahead of himself and his men. When it detonated while gravity pulled it down in front of them, it came as a loud, hissing noise without any blast for fire; a smoke grenade.

"Fan out! Don't give them a clear line of fire!" the top-graduate of the Imperial Academy relayed to his men.

Using the smoke cloud as cover, their task was made less difficult. Some of the jet troopers even found the opportunity to shoot down at a few Rebel infantry hiding behind cover below, either taking them out with headshots, or flushing them out for the 501st to finish off instead. Knowing they couldn't afford to let up now, Rastan relayed more instructions to his own troopers.

"Press forward now, while our boys up there draw their fire! Flank them before they can recover!"

The tanks barring the way into the temple soon found their efforts offset by thermal detonators exploding under and around them, along with blaster bolts slowly ebbing away at their shields. They were battered, but not destroyed, four of the unit shifting focus back on the infantry. From his perch on the pyramid-like, step-level atop the hangar bay, Volker exchanged glances with his troopers around him and they knew what he had in mind. Drawing out the same blaster pistol from before, the Imperial officer leapt down, using his jetpack to cushion his descent. The five tank turrets completely occupied, the one in the center, the lead one, was easy enough prey for the airborne division.

Landing on both feet atop the turret, Volker thrust his force pike into the crack between doors in the hatch, breaking the once-sealed entryway open. In the next instant, he kicked both doors apart and shot the turret operator between the eyes just as the latter tried reaching for his own blaster. The two T1-B's on either side attempted to rotate their turrets over to target Volker, but four more thermal detonators, this time with magnetic clamps on them, were tossed down onto both from above by the captain's loyal subordinates. The subsequent detonations kept them off balance long enough for Volker to toss one of his own detonators into the tank beneath his feet, and jetpack away in time to avoid the explosion as the lead tank was destroyed from the inside. The remaining Rebel craft were left without their leader, and by now, a full unit of TX-140 tanks were moving into range.

"Stay on their flanks! Our own armor has just arrived!" Rastan instructed his infantry from his new position behind an empty plasteel crate. From his cover there, he'd been one of those to toss a detonator under one of the T1-B's just minutes earlier.

The remaining battered and damaged Rebel tanks were little match for their Imperial counterparts. The turret operators on the TX-140's used their beam cannons to finish off the shields on the T1-B's, and a salvo of concussion missiles demolished them immediately after, leaving nothing but burning and charred wreckage billowing smoke when the explosions subsided. With the last of the exterior Rebel defenses destroyed, the Imperials quickly shifted focus back to their primary objective. Volker and the Wingguard met up with Rastan along with the forward divisions of the 501st just before the wreckage of the Rebel tanks. The commander pulled out a holocommunicator from his own utility belt, and soon reached the colonel back up on the flagship in orbit. He motioned for the captain to join him.

"Colonel Kosh, Captain Nostromo, myself, and our troops have secured the temple grounds. We've also cut off the main resupply point for their fighter craft. What's our status?"

"Very good, commander. Only two of the Rebel transports have made it past our blockade, thanks to their pesky bombers, but Lord Vader is pursuing them and their escort with his fighter squadron personally. At my word, the admiral is prepared to unleash a barrage that will destroy the blast doors guarding the hangar in front of you, so plant that targeting beacon immediately and get clear. You know what to do after that," the older Imperial officer instructed, his tone confident and superior.

"Consider it done! Over and out," the field commander replied without delay, one of his troopers rushing over to hand Volker a rectangular device with a blinking red light in the center.

It was about the size of a shoebox with an electromagnetic clamp on its underside, and it was easily identified as an orbital strike targeting beacon. The commanding officer of the Wingguard merely took possession of the device with a nod before turning and running over to the center of the sealed blast doors, the last barrier blocking access to the interior of the Rebel base. Rocketing up and hovering in place to firmly plant it dead center on the twin, thirty-foot high, eight-foot thick durasteel doors, Volker immediately took off to the right without sticking around to see the blinking red light turn green, and continue blinking in a faster, rapid succession. The rest of the Imperials had already spun on their heels to run out of the immediate area.

"Get clear! Find cover now!" Rastan called out, pressing on the commlink built into his helmet just to ensure nobody missed his warning.

Up in orbit, as TIE fighters and X-Wings continued their duels in dogfights all around, and anti-fighter guns on the Imperial fleet fended off Y-Wing bombers, two turbolaser batteries along the midship trench, portside on the _Devastator_ hummed to life as they rotated and lowered their twin barrels into position. All at once, they opened fire in a simultaneous volley, the heavy green energy blasts surging down towards the moon below in the blink of an eye.

* * *

As all this had been taking place, within the upper levels of the Great Temple, Hera maneuvered her way around several other Rebel personnel rushing about in one of the corridors. She turned a corner while running at a brisk pace, arriving at the medical center and going straight through the automatic doors as they flew open. The majority of the facility had already been evacuated, with most of the equipment, including hospital beds, bacta tanks, computer terminals, and droids having been removed and taken to the transports. Only a couple of droids remaining behind, one a medical unit, and the other built for logistics. However, it was the small organic slumbering away in an insulated, open air crib whom the Twi'lek general had come to retrieve.

She was Dawn Syndulla, born nine months after the Battle of Hutta two years prior. Though she had been reluctant to take an extended leave of absence from her role in the Rebellion, Hera eventually, with Kanan's support, found her newfound duties as a mother manageable. While of mixed genetic linage possessing both Twi'lek and Human DNA, Dawn mostly took after her mother in appearance, though from the moment she had first opened her eyes, it was apparent she had the teal optics her father once possessed.

"You two, how is she?" Hera asked the droids while huffing to collect her breath. It had been a bit of a hike from the command room. The medical droid came over to speak with her directly.

"Greetings, general. The organic patient designated 6255: Dawn Syndulla, is resting comfortably. Formula and solid sustenance were administered at the appropriate times as instructed."

"Well, thank you for keeping her safe, but she's not a patient. I merely left her here as it's more secure near the center of the temple than my quarters," Hera couldn't help but smile, her eyes softening as they fell on the little miracle she and Kanan had created together, sleeping peacefully with eyes closed. It was a rather ironic twist, considering what was taking place all around her.

"Apologies, general, our programming does not allow for such distinctions," the droid clarified, even though it was not needed.

Just seconds later, as Hera moved towards her baby, the room shook and rattled slightly and only for an instant, but the muffled blast and chain reaction it had caused was nearly enough to knock all three present to the floor, and cause the lights and monitor screen to dim in and out, nearly flickering out before things settled again. The brown eyes of little one and half year old Dawn Syndulla shot open and a whining cry broke the silence of the room. Hera rushed the rest of the way over to pick up her child and cradle her gently and lovingly in her arms, wrapping her in the blanket she'd been sleeping in. The logistics droid returned to the terminal, and quickly relayed what had happened.

"It seems the Imperials have breached the main hangar. Also, the last transport which recently departed has just been shot down, blown in two before she could leave the atmosphere. No chance for any survivors."

"How many personnel were on that ship?" Hera asked urgently, holding her child, cuddling her as the latter continued to cry.

"Estimated three hundred and eighty five troops, plus fifteen crew as well as any supplies and vehicles stowed on board," the droid replied, and although she wasn't sure, Hera believed she heard just a twinge of remorse in the mechanical voice.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, it's okay, we'll be okay," the Twi'lek continued to try and soothe her baby. Shifting her focus back to the droids, she continued, "You two, you're coming with me. The _Ghost_ is at an outlying supply port that hasn't been hit yet, connected to here by one of the sublevel tunnels for the transport trams. My own droid is already there, and anyone that can make it is getting on board with Dawn and myself."

"Don't need to tell me twice, thank you, general!" the medical droid accepted the offer immediately. The droid at the terminal was more reluctant.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline, general. I have unfinished business here, and it would be against my programming to-," the droid jumped back as a single blaster bolt penetrated the screen, destroying the monitor and disabling the terminal altogether.

Hera held the smoking pistol aloft in her right hand while carefully clutching her baby in her left, who had stopped crying and was starting to giggle instead, wide eyes observing the scene in front of her mother. Hera's own expression made it clear even to a pre-programmed droid that she wasn't amused. The medical droid merely observed in silence.

"Well, it seems my business here is concluded! I'm ready to depart when you are, general!" the logistics droid exclaimed, clearly having had a metaphorical change of heart.

* * *

Back down at the front of the hangar bay, through the smoke and flames that had taken the place of the sealed blast doors, the troopers of the 501st and the Wingguard made their advance with blasters and jetpacks blazing. The last Rebel infantry division to remain behind within the temple interior had hunkered down behind barricades, and immediately returned fire. The officer leading this last defensive line hardened his resolve at the familiar sight of the 501st colors. Whether he liked it or not, they weren't his brothers any longer.

"Hold the line and cut them down!" Captain Rex relayed to his new brothers and sisters.

"Press the attack! Encircle their line!" Captain Nostromo relayed to his own as he too emerged from the smoke.

* * *

The voyage to Dxun had taken less than two full days, yet still too long for the young Jedi and Mandalorian. When the small convoy of four ships dropped out of hyperspace within sight of the moon and the planet it orbited, Onderon, Mand'alor wasted no time relaying orders that the two Rebels were to be prepped to disembark the transports. From where he stood on the bridge of the _Crusader_ corvette leading the ships, he refused to take his gaze off the jungle moon below as they entered the atmosphere. The convoy touched down atop a dirt landing zone outside a compound of dark beige stone walls and various buildings within built of the same substance. All around was nothing but dense jungle thicket. Once they set foot on the ground after disembarking the transport that carried them, the duo of the hour quickly realized they had the same thought. With a pair of dark green supply touts under their arms, they held their heads aloft as they spoke to one another.

"It's like the Yavin moon," Ezra remarked as he took in the scenery. The tops of the trees rustled with the winds. The skies were relatively clear for the moment, but the young man knew from his time at the current Rebel base that rain storms were never too far away whenever you were surrounded by an expansive jungle.

"It is, but I think it's far more dangerous to get lost in the jungle, here," Sabine readily warned him, her words drawing his eyes to hers.

"Why is that, exactly?" the young Jedi inquired, but both he and his girlfriend nearly jumped as Mand'alor's commanding voice pulled them out of their focus.

"There's one reason and one reason alone why our ancestors claimed this moon: the savagery of this wilderness can only be conquered by the best, the strongest of mind and body. No true warrior of the Mandalorian way would ever settle for anything less."

"And how does that tie into your issue with us?" Ezra arched an eyebrow, warily questioning the intent behind the decision that brought himself and Sabine, here.

As if on cue, the young Mandalorian moved over to his side, showing her willingness to stand with him regardless of what would come next. Mand'alor eyed her curiously from beneath his helmet as another of his faithful stepped forward to reply in his stead.

"Watch your tongue, outsider. Do not forget who it is you speak to. He is well within his rights to gut you for that language alone."

The officer who stepped over to stand on Mand'alor's left was Kuervo Ordo, second lieutenant to the Mandalorian ruler and Chieftain of Clan Ordo, one of the most respected lines in the history of their people. Along with Clans Shysa and Mereel, Ordo was among the most-recognized of the loyalists who rigorously defended the throne both times it was challenged by Death Watch. His armor design indeed matched that of the others present, but was more unique than most in color choice. Pitch black with dark purple on the rims of his visor, shinguards, and shoulderguards, with the Skull of Jiang painted on the left piece of his chestplate in matching color. His own jetpack was a matching black.

"Technically, Kuervo is absolutely right, but in the interest of our continued arrangement with your superiors, I'll allow you both a longer leash, for now," Mand'alor remarked with a light yet haughty chuckle, a mixture of concern and irritation crossing Sabine and Ezra's features. Noticing this but apparently not caring, he walked past the duo and motioned for them to follow him. He looked back at his second lieutenant over his shoulder as he stepped forward, "See to things, here, my friend. I'll show these two where they'll be staying for the duration of their visit."

"As you command, sir!" Kuervo replied without delay, and nodded as he spoke.

Steeling themselves for what lay ahead, Ezra and Sabine followed the veteran Mandalorian leader towards the compound, a short walk away and through an archway built into the walls. Gates of hardened, welded durasteel were unsealed, for the moment. Numerous turret emplacements, anti-personnel lined atop the walls, and cylindrical turbolaser towers further in came into view as they passed through. All along the grounds inside were numerous Mandalorian warriors going about their daily routines, some clad in the iconic armor of supercommandos, others in more traditional gear. Some with jetpacks strapped to their backs, and others without. Ever since he'd first encountered the armored warriors of Clan Wren, Ezra noticed something about Mandalorian culture that was in stark contrast to norms he'd seen elsewhere in the Galaxy, on Lothal and beyond. Mand'alor didn't bother looking over his shoulder when the young Jedi cleared his throat, but Sabine did so immediately.

"I hope I'm not out of line when I say, I'm surprised at the gender diversity in your ranks, sir."

"Don't speak to me as if you're my subordinate. You haven't earned that right, boy," Mand'alor sharply retorted, still not bothering to spare a glance as he continued leading them forward. He didn't need to turn around to know Ezra had nearly jumped at the abrupt harshness of his tone. However, after a moment, he continued, humoring his not-quite-willing guest, "Still though, if you're that curious, fine. If you honestly took us for backwards barbarians at first glance, you do your Jedi forebears proud. Truthfully, as a culture that prioritizes strength of mind and body on and off the battlefield, we of Mand'ayim have never seen the merit in harboring such prejudices. Gender, race, species, these things are inconsequential. All that matters is a warrior prove their own merit, and they're okay by me and anyone else worthy of wearing our armor."

"Is that why you opted to bring us here?" Sabine pressed where the heart of the matter was for her, and she was thankful he chose to overlook the skepticism in her tone.

"More or less. You two will either prove yourselves, here, or leave in disgrace, if at all."

"That's certainly reassuring," Ezra drolly cut in sarcastically with an eye roll before he could stop himself, and his heart skipped a beat as his eyes went wide in realization. If Mand'alor took issue with his tone as well, the respected veteran certainly didn't show it. By now, they'd arrived at their destination in the compound, a long rectangular building with an arched roof and slit windows along the sides. The entryway they stood outside of was on one of the two narrow sides of the structure.

"This is the officer's quarters. A spare room in the back has been prepped for you, with two cots and two footlockers," Mand'alor explained, and didn't even look amused as Ezra looked back over to him with an arched brow.

"What's the catch?" the young Jedi asked warily. Removing her helmet, Sabine interjected with a flip of her hair.

"Ezra, don't," it was a useless gesture.

"The _'_ _catch'_ is get in there before I change my mind. That room and the dirt are your only options for accommodation," the Mandalorian leader replied darkly, and neither could tell if he was joking or not. They decided not to risk it.

"Thank you, Mand'alor, sir," Sabine bowed her head even as Ezra looked unimpressed. He knew she had to show respect to her supreme ruler, but he wasn't pleased by the fact the man himself didn't reciprocate the courtesy. The explanation they'd been given back at the capital simply wasn't enough for the Jedi. Perhaps noticing this, Mand'alor decided to leave them with some parting words for the evening.

"Your Verd'gotten begins tomorrow, young Wren. I suggest you both rest up and enjoy what little time together you still have," he turned to leave, but it was all an act. He knew full well the young man wouldn't stay silent after all.

"What do you mean by that?" on cue, Ezra cut in sharply, and Sabine felt herself begin to grow uneasy. She knew she was going to have to explain it to him before morning, she just was hoping it could be done on her own terms.

"Ezra, I-"

"This child of Death Watch neglected to share this iconic piece of our lore with you? Heh, why am I not surprised?" he inquired to no one in particular sarcastically while shaking his head at her slowly, condescendingly. She gulped and furrowed her brows as the odd mixture of annoyance and worry returned. Mand'alor didn't wait for her to collect her thoughts, "Once her trial begins, you won't be seeing her for six full weeks, boy, assuming she makes it back here at all."

"WHAT?!"

 **A/N: Well now, this chapter turned out longer than expected, but more for your patience this way! ;) The final battle for Yavin is drawing to a close next chapter, but the events on Dxun are just getting started, and the mystery forming on Nar Shaddaa has barely begun as well. I believe it is only fair to warn you all right now, we're inching our way closer to that inevitable Ezrabine fluff/angst, so prepare to raise proverbial shields or prepare to go crazy, or maybe some combination of the two. Your choice! Also, I expect more Kanera themes next chapter as well.**

 **Another well-deserved thank you to my beta reader Wikked Grin, and similar sentiments to all of you once more as well. I'll never grow tired of sharing this experience with you all. :) I expect the next chapter should be ready in about another 2 weeks same as this. So, until then, best wishes and safe journeys!**


	4. Chapter 4: Separation

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: I'll admit, this chapter turned out to be longer than I initially anticipated, but I doubt any of you will complain. The Second Battle/Evacuation of Yavin draws to a close as familiar faces make their stand, a soldier and a parent. Meanwhile, a certain young couple remains in the spotlight amongst the Mandalorians on Dxun, and have to come to terms with what their not-so-willing visit to the jungle moon will entail for the both of them.**

Chapter 4: Separation

A tense moment of silence passed, with Ezra clenching his teeth under narrowed eyes as he stared straight through the visor of the Mandalorian ruler, effortlessly sensing the unamused, condescending scowl hidden on the face of the latter, directed right back at him. It only served to enrage him further as he dropped the supply tout he'd been carrying over his shoulder. After doing the same, Sabine delicately placed a hand on his shoulder, and was startled when he immediately shrugged it off.

"What the hell do you mean _six weeks_?!" the young man clamored in outrage.

"Ezra, please, I can explain what's happening," the young woman tried persuading him to back down. Their situation amongst her people was already precarious enough. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear at what he said to her, next.

"I want to hear it from _him_! I expect answers right now!" as he shouted with venom, his mounting frustration getting the best of him, Ezra pointed his right index finger squarely on Mand'alor. The latter remained silent as two supercommandos approached on his flanks with blasters drawn. Hearing their footsteps, he addressed both without turning around. Sabine was initially relieved at this, but the feeling was not to last.

"Stand down, I'm more than capable of handling this fool," grinning darkly, bemused at the gall of this Jedi, Mand'alor made his next set of words both clear and deadly in tone. "You know a Verd'gotten is a rite of passage all Mandalorian youth seeking to prove themselves as warriors must complete. Perhaps I was placing too much faith in this child of dar'manda in expecting her to explain the details to you?" the veteran Mandalorian ruler shifted his gaze over to Sabine, as if staring straight through her. She felt uneasy, to say the least, but decided to try and convince Ezra to calm down once again.

"Ezra, this is what I agreed to knowingly," her sharp tone and choice of words instantly snapped his attention back to her, those deep blue eyes she'd come to love wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. She offered him a reassuring smile as she gazed into his eyes with her own hazel orbs. "This is something I was supposed to complete when I was sixteen, but I couldn't. I was running around Lothal and the Outer Rim with Kanan, Hera, and the rest of the crew. It was the year we met, remember?" Her heart felt a bit lighter as she saw his expression visibly soften while she spoke. Yes, of course he could recall those early days.

"Correction, you _could've_ completed it back then, you simply chose not to. I have no use for cowards and liars in my ranks, girl," Mand'alor interrupted, stating his addendum as a matter of fact. Before Sabine could even try to formulate a response, Ezra beat her to it, his fury renewed with a vengeance.

"You're insane if you think I'm just going to sit back and watch you send her out there to die! What the hell kind of game are you playing with us, you kriffing bastard?!" he roared unfiltered, spit flying with every other word. The young man knew he probably should've tried some restraint in the interest of diplomacy, or at least to avoid another lecture from Kanan and Hera, later. Oh well, they'd have to chew him out when the time arrived. Right here and now, his frustration with the Mandalorian leader had gone over the boiling point. However, neither he nor his girlfriend were prepared for the raw fury about to be fired back at them.

"What do you hope to accomplish by calling me out, here, boy? Look around you," he gestured in a semicircle with an open hand and arm raised between them, "We're surrounded by some of my finest, the greatest of the greatest, champions of champions. They are men and women who've proven themselves to easily be ten times the warriors you and she are. Do you expect me to apologize? Will that make you feel better?! Shall I simply rescind my entire purpose for bringing the both of you here? Or does screaming make you feel better?! Then by all means, SCREAM YOUR KARKING HEAD OFF FOR ALL I CARE!"

Blinded by rage and perhaps even some fear, Ezra drew and ignited his new lightsaber in the blink of an eye, charging forward with the purple blade held high in both hands as Sabine shrieked after him to no avail. Completely unfazed as the young Jedi closed in on him while roaring in defiance, Mand'alor effortlessly sidestepped the blade as it was brought down on him, balling and tightening his right hand into a fist as he did so. It was all done in the blink of an eye, but it ended with his clenched, gloved fist slamming into Ezra's stomach, the impact so vicious it knocked the wind out of the Rebel and brought him to his knees with a choked gasp. His lightsaber disengaged and fell from his slackened grip as he nearly crumbled into a useless mess at Mand'alor's feet. Dropping her helmet, Sabine rushed to his side and secured him in a protective hold, staring up pleadingly as her ruler towered over them both.

"Mand'alor, your exaltedness, _please_ , I apologize for his outburst _and_ his actions. _Neither_ will be repeated, I'll see to it personally."

It took another tense moment of silence, but after he crossed his arms over his chestplate while staring down the young couple at his feet, the man in question relented. "Very well, I've granted you a second chance, and I will afford him the same. I leave you both to settle in by yourselves. Just know that if this is to be repeated, I'll need far more to justify his life, and yours."

With that said, Mand'alor turned and departed with the duo behind him in tow, not even bothering to spare his not-so-willing guests another glance. Once they recollected themselves, both Ezra and Sabine retrieved their belongings and headed inside, easily finding the spare room they'd been provided. It was spartan as described like any other Mandalorian quarters. When the silence became too unbearable, the young Jedi decided he would be the one to break it.

"You should've told me this 'rite of passage' you agreed to was going to take you away for six weeks," he grumbled under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. He felt his heart grow heavy as he heard her sigh shakily. He turned to move over to her, but once he was facing her, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. His frustrated mood evaporated the moment his eyes locked onto her own. They looked forlorn, and almost… _pleading_.

"I was going to, but I know I should've told you sooner. I'm sorry, Ezra. I knew you'd object if you knew, and I just wasn't sure how to break it to you. You have every right to be mad at me, and- wha?!"

She was startled when, in an instant, he moved out of her hand and wrapped her in a warm, snug embrace. She felt her cheeks flush at his abruptness, but returned the hug a moment later. Her eyes were wide, unsure why he reacted this way, but she wasn't going to question it or push him away. She had to resist a shudder as she felt his warm breath fan the nape of her neck, his head resting gently on her shoulder.

"I know this is a difficult time for you, Sabine, probably much more so than me. I'm not angry with you. I just want you to know you can trust me with anything that's bothering you. You know that, right?" as his soft-spoken, reassuring whisper met her ears, her expression relaxed and her lips curled into a warm smile, though her blush remained. Even when he was beside himself, she was still his first priority. His selflessness was just one of the many things she loved about him. She tightened her hold on him in response, letting him know even before she replied his thoughtfulness was not unappreciated.

"I do, Ezra. Of course I know that. I just wasn't thinking clearly."

"You, not thinking clearly? I never would've noticed," he retorted with a cheesy grin, to which she chuckled.

"Stop trying so hard, you already have me," she whispered softly, pulling back just enough to press her lips to his, and he reciprocated gladly. They would enjoy this fleeting time together before the next morning light, savoring what was most precious to them, each other. That night, as they slept with the light of the stars and neighboring moons shining through the thin window, Ezra had another nightmare. It was the same one from before.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Mand'alor's stronghold in Kadelbe, Shysa had been called to the comm room deeper in the complex. A holocall had been received, requiring he answer it personally. The Chieftain of Clan Shysa had recognized the face of the slightly older woman the moment he'd opened the channel she was waiting on.

"Bo-Katan, esteemed leader of the Nite Owls. It's rather early for your weekly report."

"Shysa? Where is Mand'alor? My forces engaged a pirate convoy that our sensors picked up. I figured he'd like to be informed before the scheduled report."

It had been twenty years since the Siege of Mandalore, when she and her fellow defectors from Death Watch, the Nite Owls, joined forces with the True Mandalorians and the Old Republic to vanquish Death Watch once and for all, ending the reign of Maul's corrupt servitors. As was the case with all former members of Death Watch, Mand'alor the Vindicator had decreed the Nite Owls were to be allowed to depart their homeworld, but were forbidden from ever returning. Holdouts who wouldn't submit willingly were hunted down and eliminated, and in the end, Bo-Katan decided it was more worthwhile to agree to his terms. She'd grown weary of all the fighting and death, a state someone of Mandalorian blood did not achieve easily by any means at all. Truthfully, she suspected Mand'alor would've agreed with the sentiment, but he hid it well. While not particularly fond of his strict rules and guidelines for warriors like herself, she was grateful that he agreed to grant her a command of her own. An entire sector on the border with Hutt space answered to her command, and she relished the chance for a skirmish with criminal and pirate scum unfortunate or stupid enough to enter the territory. It wasn't all-out war, and it kept both her and the warriors under her command sharp.

"His exaltedness is currently off-world on an excursion to our border post on Dxun, with two of the Rebellion along with him. I believe a former lieutenant of yours is the mother of one of the duo. Her name is Ursa Wren, correct?" Shysa smirked to himself under his helmet as he saw the woman's eyes go wide in realization.

"Ursa? She was always one of my finest warriors. I'd heard her daughter had been appointed liaison to the Rebellion. Why would Mand'alor take the young Wren and another Rebel to the compound on Dxun?" the veteran female warrior inquired, figuring she had enough time to hear the story if Shysa was willing.

"I suppose I can spare a few minutes to get you up to speed," Mand'alor's first lieutenant sighed, but his tone suggested fatigue rather than irritation. Every time he was left in command at the capital, he was reminded being at the top took a lot out of someone. It only made him respect his only superior officer even more.

* * *

As this had been taking place, back inside the main hangar at the Great Temple on Yavin 4, the last Rebel barricade quickly found itself overrun by the superior numbers and firepower of their Imperial foes. Rushing a 501st trooper in his sights, Captain Rex knocked the soldier to the floor before finishing him off with a barrage of blaster bolts through the visor. The former commanding officer in the 501st tried his best to ignore the familiar blue markings on their white armor, the identifying symbol that reminded him of better days. Noticing sharp movement out of the corner of his eye, the old captain narrowly dodged the force pike thrust at the back of his head. He quickly took aim with both of his blasters at his attacker, and found a blaster of Mandalorian design facing him in return.

"You're a bold one, Imperial, but we're not finished yet!" Rex sharply boasted in defiance.

"Surrender now, defector, and I'll take you in alive," Volker offered sincerely. He wasn't surprised when the old clone scoffed, seemingly insulted by the request.

"One thing about me that's never changed, Imperial; I'd sooner die than be a prisoner!"

Careful to avoid stray blaster bolts, the two combatants focused almost squarely on one another as they resumed their fight. Rex quickly found his advantage in firepower was offset by the agile reflexes of his opponent. Ducking, dodging, and rolling wasn't affording either of them a clear advantage. Returning fire with his own blaster, Volker closed in a second time, forcing Rex to cease fire and avoid the pike aimed straight at his chest. A single shot blasted Rex's left pistol out of his hand, but the old clone successfully landed two hits on the Imperial's chestplate, stunning the latter long enough to knock him to the floor. Rex wasted no time kicking the blaster out of his enemy's grip, and took aim at the man's head with his own remaining pistol. Adrenaline and rigid focus coursing through him, the veteran of the Old Republic was almost blind to the chaos around him. The Rebel line had been completely overrun at this point.

Rex pulled the trigger the moment Volker met his fierce gaze, but the Imperial was quick even while down. The old clone had to jump to avoid the black boot that threatened to trip him, but it was a distraction. It was over in the blink of an eye as Volker pulled himself up just enough to thrust his force pike straight into the Rebel captain's torso. Had Rex not been wearing his MK-2 chestplate, he would've easily been run through. Instead, the armor was punctured and rendered damaged beyond repair, but the wound its wearer sustained was mitigated significantly. Still, the entire head of the pike was now embedded in his flesh. Rex heaved out a strained gasp as blood flew from his mouth in the process. As he hit the cold and hard hangar floor, the last of his comrades were finished off.

Volker pressed a button further down the pike's shaft, and sent a strong pulse of electrical energy through the head and into the wounded, pinned body of his foe. Rex's howl of pain was silenced as he was driven into unconsciousness. One of the Wingguard moved over with blaster rifle trained on the Rebel, but halted the moment Volker raised his left hand in objection.

"That won't be necessary," lowering his gaze back to Rex, he continued after wrenching the pike free, "This proud one may envision a so-called 'glorious demise on the battlefield' for himself, but that day is not today," returning his focus to the trooper in his unit who had stepped forward, the Imperial field officer continued, "Take him into custody. Drop him off with a medic and catch up with us, we're pressing forward to the upper levels," as he spoke, he stood and moved to retrieve his discarded blaster. He heard the jet trooper reply from over his shoulder.

"Yes sir!"

Raising his free arm, Commander Rastan motioned for three of his squads to fan out and advance into the hangar. "Secure the area. Shoot to kill all hostiles on sight. Fourth squad, you're with me. Fifth squad, lock down this position. Let's move!" the Stormtrooper officer ordered, and the 501st troopers obeyed without delay.

"Yes sir!"

"On it, sir!"

* * *

At the same time, just a few hundred feet further inside the hangar, the central turbolifts had largely fallen silent. In fact, when the doors to the last one still in operation flew open on the level, it was less than ten seconds before General Dodonna would order power cut to the lifts altogether. With Dawn clutched close to her, Hera stepped out of the lift with the two droids from the medical ward in tow. Eyes darting frantically, the Twi'lek quickly ascertained their location. The main hangar bay was mostly deserted at this point, the florescent lights illuminating the stone pillars and walls in conjunction with the duracrete floor. For the most part, only a few empty crates and fuel cell barrels remained scattered about. However, the faint yet telltale sound of multiple footsteps growing louder in rapid succession was not a welcome one. With the evacuation all but complete, they likely weren't friendlies approaching.

"General! Over here!"

Rounding the lifts towards the urgent and hushed voice that had called her, Hera and the droids found a group of four surviving Rebels, two technicians and two soldiers, all wounded and exhausted, clearly worse off than her. She wasted no time organizing them, urging everyone to follow her, waving them along with her free hand.

"Everyone, with me! Hurry!" she ordered in an equally quick but low tone. The entrance to the tunnel that ran to the supply port where the _Ghost_ awaited them wasn't far from their current position. Little Dawn looked up at her mother with wide, curious eyes as the group took off running. They quickly came to a halt as a personnel transport tram rounded a corner of one of the pillars, screeching to a halt in front of the group. Hera's surprise was mitigated when she recognized the two in front in the driver's car. "Chopper! AP-5!"

The troublesome but loyal astromech, operating the steering mechanism with his two retractable limbs, whistled and beeped in binary reply, while the former Imperial droid quickly urged everyone aboard.

"I do believe it's past time we got back to the ship!"

"Seconded!" Hera retorted instantly, "Everyone, get on!"

"Blast them!"

One of the 501st squads arrived not a moment too soon, their sergeant instantly ordering their blasters raised and fired. Two of the Rebels and the logistics droid had almost no time to react before they were shot dead. Hera dove into the seat of a passenger car, shielding Dawn protectively beneath her. The baby released another round of high-pitched crying while the surviving technician and soldier returned fire. The Twi'lek general tugged the medical droid over to help shield her baby as she drew her own blaster to join the firefight.

"Get on!" she shrieked to the two still on the floor, just before the technician was shot through the skull. Desperately trying to use an empty fuel cell for cover, the soldier drew and hurled a thermal detonator at the squad, who reacted instantly.

"Hit the deck!" the sergeant ordered. The soldier didn't get to watch the blast that erupted a moment later; another blaster bolt courtesy of Volker Nostromo sent his lifeless body to the floor. The squad of troopers were able to evade the blast from the thermal detonator in time, the explosion temporarily drowning out Dawn's piercing cry of fear and confusion.

"Punch it!" Hera ordered Chopper, who immediately did as instructed. The tram sped off away from the chaos. Volker motioned for his jet troopers to stand down, but two of the 501st troopers who returned to their feet took aim and resumed firing.

"Cease fire! I said cease fire! There's a child on that tram!" Volker frantically swatted away the barrel of the second trooper's rifle as the first lowered his immediately.

Hera just barely caught this within earshot out of the corner of her eye as the tram rounded another pillar and got out of range. Still, she remained hunched over, clutching her baby to her closely, protectively. Carbon scoring marked the car behind hers, and the sound of blaster bolts shooting above her head, vaporizing through her headrest, remained on repeat, ringing in her ears. The 501st were truly deadly shots. She heaved a heavy sigh of relief the moment the tram cleared the hangar, entering the sublevel tunnel that would take them to the _Ghost_. Another set of blast doors sealed the way in behind them.

 _"Attention all units! Lord Vader's shuttle has just touched down! I repeat, Lord Vader has arrived on the battlefield!"_ the urgent, disciplined voice of Commander Rastan sounded over the comm units of Volker and every trooper present.

* * *

"Major General Jan Dodonna, decorated war hero of the Old Republic, betrayer to the Empire. We meet face to face at last. You certainly live up to your reputation. Your defenses and evacuation plan were both formidable," carefully assessing their surroundings as he spoke, Volker knew the end of the battle was within his grasp. He refused to relax his discerning scowl. Delicate matters such as dealing with a cornered adversary required precision.

"Lieutenant Nostromo? I'd heard you were still leading the Wingguard. Your praise is well-received, but clearly your tactics won out in the end," Dodonna replied in a like-manner, almost bemused at facing an Imperial who placed value in civility and honor. It was a rare sight these days.

"It's 'captain', now, actually. Also, I thank you, general, but I can't take full credit. Commander Rastan and his men did their part alongside myself and my own as well," Volker was explanative and respectful, his guard still up, but his manner of conduct still one of courtesy and respect. Dodonna nodded, his expression remaining a near-perfect mirror of the younger officer's

"So, you've made it to the heart of our base. Will you try and take my staff and myself alive, or will we fight to the death?"

"This battle is over, general. Surrender now, and I will personally guarantee no harm will come to what remains of your forces on this moon. If you order their cooperation, I'll see to it they're treated fairly as prisoners of war," Volker Nostromo refused to take his piercing gaze off the older military veteran, making every effort to convey seriousness and sincerity together.

It took several more tense moments of uncertain silence, but Dodonna finally acquiesced. "I have your word, on your honor? If your reputation is half as warranted as I've heard, you dare not defy a promise," the aging general continued to match the fierce gaze of his adversary, focusing for any sign of deception. There were none.

"I would sooner perish than be a coward who used lies to achieve his goals. That much I can also promise you, general."

With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, Major General Jan Dodonna conceded the battle was done. He took comfort in knowing at least the Princess and General Syndulla had made it out. "Very well, I agree to your terms, Captain Nostromo. I'll oversee the surrender personally," as the former Imperial finished, he arched a brow as he noticed the expression of his foe falter, but only for a moment.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that. I said I could personally guarantee the safety of your troops, but whether or not you survive is out of my hands. I'll certainly request my superior be merciful, at least."

"And who is this _superior_?" Dodonna inquired warily.

Volker Nostromo need not reply, as it was less than a moment later when a foreboding, deep mechanical breathing echoed into the command room from the hallway outside.

* * *

All the while, back on the "Smuggler's Moon", Nar Shaddaa, Kanan had patiently waited in silence within the confines of a meeting room behind Noda's storefront. The blind Jedi Knight and the underworld entrepreneur were just finishing up their business, including the details of further munitions and foodstuffs shipments, when an employee of the Quarren had interrupted with an urgent, encrypted message only Noda could decipher. Quickly excusing himself, Noda left Kanan by himself and had been absent for a good twenty minutes. The veteran survivor of the Jedi Order was just beginning to sense something was amiss once more when the door flew open, revealing Noda had returned.

"Ah, good! Shall we get back to business, or… what's wrong?" Kanan asked, his professional voice shifting to one of wariness upon sensing the distressed mood that had taken hold in his host. Clearing his throat, and with sympathetic eyes, Noda elaborated what he had just learned.

~"I regret to inform you, Master Jedi, that we've lost contact with the Rebel base. We got a partial message indicating that Imperial forces had landed near their main installation before the transmission was cut. I have my comm team trying to reestablish a connection, but we've had no luck so far,"~ after he finished, the Quarren took a moment to let Kanan absorb the info, his expression noticeably shifting back and forth between collected and worry. It was clear he was trying to keep a level head in spite of the dire news, and it wasn't easy. Even after spending these last few years as a Jedi Knight, news regarding those close to him, especially now that he was a father, always seemed to challenge his discipline. Noda appeared to notice this, and he spoke up once again, ~"I understand you have family at the base, yes? I assure you, we'll be working into the night to try and hail the Rebellion over all secured channels we've been granted access to by your superiors."~

"I appreciate your honesty and your efforts, Mr. Purungo, but perhaps it would be best if I took my leave, now," Kanan hastily rose to his feet, fully prepared to walk out the door and return to the shuttle without another word. Noda, however, wasn't convinced such action would be prudent. Kanan allowed the Quarren to step closer to him, placing a reassuring, tentacled hand on his shoulder in protest.

~"You know as well as I that it's a good two days of hyperspace travel back to the base. By the time you arrived, the place would no doubt be a smoking ruin, and you'd rush headlong into an empty battlefield, or worse, an Imperial trap. Your wife is one of the base's command staff if I recall correctly?"~ Noda paused as Kanan nodded in affirmation, ~"Then surely she and her peers thought up an evacuation plan? She wouldn't be granted such a position of authority if she were incompetent, am I right?"~

Kanan had to stifle a chuckle at the question. "Hera is many things, but incompetent sure isn't one of them."

~"Ah! Then the chances of survival for her and anyone else there you care about are greater than they may seem! You certainly sound like you have faith in your wife. Use that confidence, and don't despair just yet, Master Jedi."~ At the words of his host, Kanan raised his head, as if his sightless and hidden eyes were peering into the black orbs of the alien in front of him. He allowed himself a weak smile and a light chuckle as he words resonated in his mind.

"I never thought I'd see the day when a Separatist would lecture a Jedi, and be right in doing so," the Rebel mused aloud, to which Noda laughed in good nature.

~"Times change, sometimes rather quickly. Come, no reason for us to remain here while we wait for an update."~

* * *

It wasn't too long afterwards when the morning sun rose over Onderon and Dxun, and as difficult as she knew their parting words would be, Sabine still woke Ezra from his slumber. She knew he'd blow his stack if she snuck out without alerting him, and neither of them nor the Rebellion could afford to test Mand'alor's patience any further. The singular ruler of the Mandalorian people had gotten himself up to see her off. Bereft of her jetpack and instead sporting a blue-grey military backpack of survival gear loaned to her in its place, the young Mandalorian walked alongside her boyfriend as Mand'alor and an armed escort brought them to the main gates, nothing but a dirt path and dense jungle waiting for her on the outside just beyond. The couple turned to face one another, with the moment of truth now upon them. They could both practically feel the eyes of the veteran leader burning through the both of them.

"I'll be here when you return, Sabine, no matter what any of these folks say or do to me," he smiled meekly, his eyes and tone sad, yet resigned. Her expression reflected his own as she brought her free hand to cup his cheek, her thumb delicately tracing the familiar scars he obtained years prior.

"Once this is out of the way, nothing will keep me from returning. That's a promise," her own voice conveyed her solemn mood, but also her resolute determination. They both knew well enough by now neither of them would break so easily.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Sabine," he told her sincerely as he too cupped her face in his hand, not taking his deep blue eyes off her amber ones.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Ezra," she replied in a like tone, her eyes equally locked on his own. For the moment at least, she didn't give a damn who saw or what they thought.

One of the escort lifted his helmet to spit on the ground in disgust, while another scoffed and looked off to the side. Mand'alor, however, remained still and silent, focusing intently on the faces and eyes of the young couple directly in front of him. And so, after donning her helmet once more, Sabine Wren departed into the foreboding wilderness of Dxun, leaving a proud yet frustrated and worried Ezra Bridger behind. Their trials as a couple in the face of adversity had only just begun.

 **A/N: Mando'a Translation:**

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: "I love you"

 **All right, everyone, I believe this marks the halfway point for this story. The next chapter will feature the aftermath of the battle, and what Mand'alor has in store for Ezra while Sabine is absent. After all, he will have his own trial to complete. ;) As usual, I expect the next chapter to be ready in about another 2 weeks at the latest.**

 **Once again, a well-deserved thanks to Wikked Grin for his assistance in proofreading these chapters, and each and every one of you for reading, favoring, following, and reviewing. What I've said before remains the same, it's your support and response that makes this all worthwhile!**


	5. Chapter 5: Mand'alor's Guile

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: Sadly, this chapter took a bit longer than I initially expected. Real life caught up with me once again. Nevertheless, it's ready now, and a few more cameos from the original films are in store for you folks today. So, now without further ado, enjoy!**

Chapter 5: Mand'alor's Guile

Meanwhile, back at the Great Temple on Yavin 4, less than an hour had passed since General Dodonna ordered the official surrender of all remaining Rebel forces on the moon. The wreckage strewn about the tarmac and the surrounding battlefield was still smoking as Imperial troops rounded up enemy stragglers who hadn't already been flushed out and killed. AT-ST's and speeder bikes kept the perimeter secure, but at this point the last of the fighting had ceased. It was on the orders of Colonel Kosh that all Rebel prisoners, wounded or otherwise, were to be held in binders and at blaster point outside on the tarmac in preparation for their transport to the fleet.

Not far from the smoldering and flickering remains of the destroyed T1-B tanks, a series of cheap, fold-out cots had been placed on the pavement for the more seriously injured Rebel prisoners to lay on as they were stabilized and bound by Imperial medics. Some were conscious for their treatments, and others weren't. One of the latter had been a familiar, once-decorated military officer of the Old Republic, but as he slowly cracked his eyelids open with a weak groan, Captain Rex rejoined the waking world. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't much better than when he'd left. He didn't even need to look down to know his wrists were clasped together in binders, sealed with electromagnetic locks. He almost scoffed the moment he noticed the one responsible for his current predicament, who'd just been out of sight on his right.

"Why didn't you kill me? I was going to end your life without a second thought," the former soldier of the Old Republic winced in pain as he spoke. Thick bandaging and gauze had replaced his now-destroyed chestplate, restricting movement.

"Yes, I was there," Volker remarked drolly from his perch, leaning down at Rex's side. "I spared you not necessarily because I believe you deserve to live, but I believe Lord Vader would prefer it. He rarely sees another veteran of the Clone Wars these days. Of course, I doubt he'd be willing to chat about old war stories, but I'm sure he'd be very interested in knowing what tactics, strategies, and military secrets you've shared with the insurgents who pretend themselves heroes."

"The Rebellion may not be the Republic, but their cause is just. That's all the reason I need to fight and die for them," Rex fired back defiantly, briefly forgetting his injuries as he attempted to push himself up. A sharp groan escaped his lips and his head was back on the mat beneath him.

"Your sense of duty is strong, captain. I can respect that. This is what my own loyalty cost me," Volker reached up and pulled down the black mask covering the lower half of his face, and Rex felt his eyes go wide at the sight.

The Imperial officer had twin, deep laceration marks lining his cheeks, spreading out from both corners of his lips. It looked like someone had taken something very sharp, very hot, or some combination of the two, and nearly cut his jaw off at the mouth. It was an unnerving sight, even for someone so used to injury and death. "This is what the insurgents do to prisoners of war when there's no one there to stop them. And yet, I'm one of the more fortunate ones; I got out while still in one piece."

"Wha... how?" Rex asked, incredulous in spite of himself.

"Saw Guerra's men. I was one of their 'unwilling guests' for a few months several years back. I refused to talk, and so I almost lost my ability to speak in turn. Hope for your sake your loyalty doesn't take a similar, or more severe toll," the Imperial's eyes conveyed no malice or anger as he explained. Instead, Rex briefly thought he recognized a twinge of remorse in them. It only lasted a second, at most.

"I can endure anything you did at their hands, don't insult me by worrying about me, Imperial," Rex retorted sharply, but his tone had lost the edge it held just moments prior. He was more frustrated than angry at this point. Volker surprised him again by shaking his head dismissively.

"I've been witness to Lord Vader's powers of persuasion more than once. I'm sure he would've been able to snap Guerra's best like twigs, mentally and physically."

"You're _that_ certain? Heh. Who is he, anyway?" this time, the old clone arched a brow at the almost bemused look on the Imperial's face. Volker stood back up while readjusting his mask, concealing his ghastly scars once more.

"If I told _you_ , I doubt you'd believe me."

* * *

One Week Later:

After seven full standard days, it was apparent to the remnants of the Rebel fleet that none of them would be returning to Yavin 4. In the aftermath of the Battle of Scarif, most of the larger Rebel ships that had escaped, a small number of Nebulon-B frigates, Hammerhead corvettes, and Corellian blockade runners, had been directed to the Outer Rim world of Destrillion. A sparsely-populated mining and spacer colony, the barren, arid planet was home to a remote Rebel outpost with landing and refueling facilities. The complex had been constructed recently in secret thanks in part to growing support for the Rebellion from the aristocracy on nearby Dubrillion, an idyllic, temperate world rich in its history as a traditional monarchy brought into Republic and later Imperial control.

It was quite apparent that even at full capacity, the outpost was not enough to shelter the Rebel ships, and sympathetic colonists offered what aid they could. The largest of the Rebel ships, the frigates and a lone Mon Calamari cruiser reverently named _Tano's Legacy_ , had to remain in orbit, with smaller vessels ferrying supplies and fuel to them. It was into this stable but uneasy atmosphere that the survivors from Yavin 4 arrived.

The _Ghost_ touched down in Hangar A on the starboard side of the Rebel capital ship, alongside the _Millennium Falcon_. The moment she disembarked with Chopper in tow, the Twi'lek pilot was met by a Rebel soldier who rushed over to her, stopping and standing in attention while saluting in respect. She returned the gesture immediately.

"General Syndulla! On behalf of Colonel Rieekan and the rest of the command staff in system, welcome aboard!"

"Your welcome and theirs is well received, soldier. Please, I need to know if other ships from the base made it here safely," Hera asked respectfully and urgently. She'd only been given clearance to land, and evidently activity on the fleet and at the outpost below was rather frantic at the moment, as was to be expected. The Human soldier's tone nearly mirrored her own.

"Three transports plus several groups of fighters and bombers arrived shortly before the smuggler vessel parked next to yours did, just about two hours ago, general. Please, if I may, Commander Sarusan ordered me to escort you to the bridge the moment you arrived. As you are the highest-ranking officer to arrive, surely he and the commander wish to bring you up to speed on the status here."

"Very well, let's go. However, I require a support team to take care of the passengers I brought with me, including my daughter."

"I'll call it in on the way, general!"

Once atop the command module towards the bow of the cruiser, the Rebel soldier showed Hera inside, before saluting one final time and departing. The Twi'lek general's eyes darted around, coming to a halt at the group gathered around the holotable in the middle of the room, with the live holofeed of another Rebel officer facing them. Her expression softened upon seeing that the Alderaanian Princess had safely arrived on the smuggler's ship ahead of her. Said smuggler was standing beside her while she spoke with the captain of the ship, and he himself was accompanied by his Wookiee companion and who appeared to be a surviving pilot from Red Squadron. Hera quickly recognized the young man as the one who fired the shots that destroyed the Death Star just over a week prior. Clearing her throat as she walked over, she collected their attention in an instant.

"Your highness, captain, I hope I'm not interrupting."

"General Syndulla! I was informed your ship had just arrived. Please, join us, we're discussing our next move with the colonel, here," Sarusan motioned to the man speaking to them via hologram, who turned to face her as well. Hera quickly recognized him as well.

"Colonel Rieekan, a pleasure as always," she shared a salute with him as she regarded him respectfully.

"Likewise, General Syndulla. I believe as the highest-ranking officer here, excluding the princess, you should be the one to take command going forward," the middle-aged Human male informed his superior, who felt a need to inquire further.

"What of General Dodonna? Has there been any word from him?" she had her answer when Leia slowly shook her head, her gaze downcast in remorse.

"Not since the temple interior was breached. He's been officially listed as MIA for the time being. With respect, I'm more politician than commander. I defer to you as well, General Syndulla," the fair princess explained, raising her head to meet Hera's gaze with her own. Resolution and sincerity were written in her expression. Hera took on a similar look and nodded.

"First thing's first, I believe the comm blackout has lasted long enough. We need to get in touch with our forces scattered throughout the Galaxy and update them on the situation."

"You mean there's more Rebels out there?" the blonde Human pilot spoke up at last, his voice suggesting something akin to relief. Hera nodded again with a light smile, her thoughts on one in particular. It widened slightly as she heard the enthusiastic growl from the Wookiee in Shyrriwook, the language of his species. She didn't quite understand what the towering warrior had said, but his Human partner sure did.

"Looking to sign on as a recruit, Chewie?" Han Solo remarked with a hint of sarcasm, but Chewbacca merely shrugged at the suggestion. Hera thought she could briefly spot the hint of a faint smile forming on the lips of the princess. She decided to answer Luke Skywalker's question.

"That would be a yes, young pilot, and my husband is among them. Given his role in our ranks, I believe it's best if I contact him, first," she tried to suppress her sense of urgency and enthusiasm. She knew full well Kanan must be beside himself in worry for herself and Dawn. She listened intently as Rieekan resoundingly agreed with her.

"Indeed! Until Lieutenant Bridger returns, Commander Jarrus is our last Jedi operative. At least, until you advance further in your training, young Skywalker," the Rebel officer amended as he looked back over at Luke, who seemed startled at the revelation. The way his mystification morphed into enthusiasm caused Hera to suppress a chuckle. The young man was starting to remind her of Ezra when he first started apprenticeship. Sure enough, Luke couldn't contain himself, not that Hera minded in the least.

"There's more Jedi in Rebellion? Please, I have to meet them! Do you think Commander Jarrus or Lieutenant Bridger would be willing to meet with me?" the former moisture farmhand from Tatooine quickly asked the Twi'lek general, who placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder after moving over to him.

"I'll be sure to put in a good word for you when they return," she told him earnestly, not missing the glimmer of hope in his eyes. He was clearly a naïve young man, headstrong with much to learn, but Ezra hadn't been so different at first, either. Luke Skywalker was already a hero to the Rebellion. Perhaps in time, he'd become a Jedi like the two other most important gentlemen in her life.

* * *

Meanwhile, across the stars back on Nar Shaddaa, Kanan had been deep in meditation while sitting cross-legged on the floor in the meeting room inside Noda Purungo's contraband port. The mask that normally covered his blind eyes was neatly placed beside him. Days had passed with no word from his wife or anyone else in the Rebellion. He'd tried in vain to reach out to the Mandalorians only to learn neither the comm system in the facility or the _Phantom 2_ had access to their frequencies. This is how he spent most days now, trying in vain to find clarity in this deeply troubling circumstance and uncertainty.

However, just as his efforts to ward off despair began to wane even further, an eyebrow on one of his closed, sightless eyes twitched up. Feelings of relief, urgency, these were ebbing into his focus from the hallway outside. Sure enough, the door flew open, and his alien host seemed out of breath. Clearly the Quarren had run the way over to him.

"What is it, Mr. Purungo?" Kanan asked as he retrieved his mask and placed it over his face once more. Noda waited for the Jedi Knight to return to his feet before explaining.

~"Jedi! We received a transmission from a Rebel fleet over Destrillion! It's your wife! She wants to see you immediately!"~ The tentacled alien blurted out in a hurried rush, and Kanan needed no second thoughts.

"Let's go!" and both men were out the door in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"You don't understand what a relief it is to hear your voice, and know that Dawn's okay," it was pure, joyous relief that flowed with Kanan's voice as he conversed with his beloved wife for the first time in a week, the first time since her narrow escape from a deadly battlefield. He didn't need use of his eyes to know she was beaming at him.

"I think I could venture a good guess," she remarked with a grin, before shifting her focus to Noda, catching him off-guard as she bowed in respect, "Thank you, for looking after my husband. I hope he didn't give you too much trouble."

"Hey!" the relief in Kanan's voice was now gone. Noda merely chuckled and returned the bow graciously.

~"No, no, nothing my staff and I couldn't handle."~ He remarked with a laugh, and Hera chuckled as well. Kanan's Jedi training couldn't hold back his irritation at the teasing.

"I'm standing right here!"

Truly some things would never change, no matter how long the passage of time.

* * *

It had been less than an hour since the Jedi Knight had departed when two cloaked, armored, and masked humanoid figures clad in uniforms identical to the duo working at the console in the listening post across the chasm arrived in the storefront of Noda's operation. The Quarren met them both with a warm reception.

~"Why, greetings, gentlemen! What can I do for you on this lovely evening?"~

"You can start by answering some of our questions, Mr. Purungo. Please, show us to a more… _secure_ area before we continue," the man on the right replied in an instructive, firm tone.

~"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid the back rooms are for employees and high-level clients only. Might I know the business that brings you two to me?"~ The tentacled alien inquired further, lowering his tone as he did so. Leaning forward slightly on one foot, the masked man on the left replied this time.

"We are the children of the Dark, we are the children of the Light. By wing and fang, none shall surmount his everlasting reign." After a long, still moment of silence, Noda responded resolutely.

~"Welcome, brothers of the Great Dragon. Indeed, there is much I can share regarding our curious guest. Please, do follow."~

And so, as Kanan Jarrus set about returning to his beloved wife and child across the stars, the hidden secrets he unknowingly left behind remained as obscured and strong as ever. Truly, upon the many man-made surfaces of Nar Shaddaa, cloaked by towering high rises and artificial lighting, few things were always as they seemed.

* * *

 _One Year and Ten Months Prior:_

 _About two standard months had passed since the fateful and decisive Battle of Hutta. The wind howled outside the entrance, and thunder rumbled in the distance as a heavy, steady downpour pelted the temple & the stone pathways outside. When word came in they were being sent further into the jungle outside the base, Ezra and Sabine knew they'd have to be prepared for this; hemmed in by a storm that formed seemingly out of nowhere, forced to take shelter and hunker down. Without any means to break through the interference caused by the storm scrambling long-range sensors & comm units, the young couple knew there was nothing to do but wait in the long-abandoned structure and wait for a break in the weather outside. _

_"You know, I honestly thought scouting a possible location for a new defense outpost would be more... I don't know, exciting," the Jedi mused aloud from where he sat against the wall in the central corridor._

 _Sabine merely chuckled from where she stood, leaning back beside him while shaking her head in thought. "Sounds like you've been cooped up in the base for too long. Hera & Dodonna aren't even sure anything is going to be done in this place, we're just here to inspect it for feasibility." _

_"Ugh, I'm almost starting to miss combat missions to be honest, and don't tell Kanan I said that," Ezra sharply amended, knowing his master would lecture him about how a Jedi wasn't supposed to seek battle._

 _His girlfriend flashed him a snarky grin and he rolled his eyes with a knowing smirk. "Maybe, but I think I'll see how the next date goes before making any promises," she finished cheekily, and he simply grumbled under his breath._

 _"Karabast..."_

 _Little did either of them know, before their time within the Temple of Sacrifice was done, Ezra would find a piece of his past long forgotten. Neither of them knew it then, but this discovery would forever change the course of his destiny, and that of the young Mandalorian with whom he shared his heart._

Present Day:

Ezra groaned as he returned to the waking world, his voice groggy with sleep while he covered his eyes with his forearm to block out the bright ray of sunlight shining through the narrow slit of a window. A full week had passed since Sabine departed on her Verd'gotten, and Mand'alor had yet to decide what trial the young Jedi would be subjected to in her absence. So this is how most mornings began for him over the last several days, his natural body clock pulling him out of slumber late in the morning, still in the same room at the compound on Dxun.

After fixing himself up and eating another ration packet, Ezra made his way over to the command hall. For the last few days, he'd been kept busy at times each day by taking up tasks around the base, usually at the discretion of Spar, the Mandalorian officer usually in charge of the compound. The older man had been the first to reveal his face to Ezra, a courtesy rarely afforded to outsiders, or so the Rebel had been told. Ezra was initially shocked to see how much like Rex the officer had looked, but Spar revealed he'd been one of a handful of Old Republic clones to defect during the Clone Wars, joining up with the True Mandalorians instead. He said he'd long mused perhaps it was his "inner Fett" that compelled him to do so, with a nostalgic chuckle.

After finally locating Spar in a storeroom further inside the command hall, Ezra cleared his throat to get the aging clone's attention. The man in question was busy sifting through a plasteel crate on one of the shelves. Clad in the familiar armor of supercommandos, painted dark green with deep yellow over the gauntlets, pauldrons, and shinguards. His helmet, which lay off to the side on the shelf, was a matching combination with the deep yellow over the rims. Looking over his shoulder, his irritated expression softened as he recognized who disturbed his task.

"Ah, Jedi, glad to see you're finally up! Well, hope you got some grub in your gut, 'cause we got a full morning of work ahead of us."

"Again? More maintenance on the sensor hub?" Ezra drawled out with a sigh. He didn't mean to sound stand-offish and difficult, he simply had his fill of the whole compound a week ago. Even the news relayed to Mand'alor that the Death Star had been finally destroyed had only lifted the young Jedi's mood temporarily.

"Close, but this time it's the communications relay! The dish needs a good cleaning, plus the power conduits and cables need to be serviced. We can barely maintain a direct channel to Mandalore right now, and we certainly can't have that!" Spar replied with straight-forwardness and enthusiasm. His days on the frontline may be over, but the old veteran preferred to keep his hands busy whenever possible.

"Seriously? I thought you said the cables were repaired just last week?" Ezra asked. He never would've guessed so much upkeep went into keeping this place operational. He thought the Rebels had their work cut out for them operating out of a jungle on Yavin 4. Handyman jobs there paled in comparison to Dxun.

"Yeah, well, I think you know the drill as well as everyone else lodging here at this point; anything that doesn't get proper and thorough upkeep in this jungle tends to waste away faster than normal," by now, the old clone had gone back to looking through the crate, and having finally dug his way to the bottom, he'd found what he was looking for. "Here we go! Industrial solvent for dirt and grime on the dish. You can carry this!"

Ezra very nearly dropped the heavy canister, topped with a spray hose, as the armored warrior tossed it to him without warning. The young Jedi heaved out a surprised gasp as he grasped the barrel with both hands, struggling to overpower the weight. As he inched his hands onto the handles, cursed his reflexes; it would've been much easier to grasp it through the force in mid-air instead.

* * *

Four Weeks and Four Days Later:

The evening was fading with the setting sun over the jungle canopy. Ezra sat atop the eastern wall of the compound overlooking the landing zone he and his girlfriend had arrived in, as well as the dense, feral wilderness beyond. He'd tried pretty much every Jedi technique he knew of to calm his nerves, as well as distracting himself with the odd jobs Spar afforded him, but he'd be lying if he said Sabine and her extended trek out in the jungle wasn't constantly gnawing away at his thoughts. Try as he might, he quickly learned he couldn't get a lock on her presence out there even while deep in meditation. The jungle was far too thick with lifeforms both plant and beast alike. He eventually gave up trying to discern which energy signature belonged to his favorite Mandalorian.

 _"Just one more week… seven more days and this madness is over!"_ he sharply reminded himself, squeezing his eyes shut in a vain attempt to shut out negative thoughts and worries. He nearly jumped at the sound of footsteps approaching him. A single glance to his right, and he saw who had come to visit him.

"You truly care for her don't you, boy?" the supreme ruler of the Mandalorian people inquired, his tone noticeably more soft and less harsh than usual, and the young Jedi nearly jumped in surprise, scarcely recognizing the voice that pulled him out of his thoughts. After several moments, Ezra had collected himself enough to give his honest reply.

"With respect, Mand'alor, sir, I do. I've cared for Sabine for a long time now, and I love her. Heck, I was infatuated with her from the moment we met. She thought of me as just an annoying kid at first, though…" he trailed off with a light chuckle at himself, musing over times past. To his surprise, Mand'alor didn't scoff or retort with a demeaning remark like usual. Ezra was almost taken aback at his respectful silence, sensing his eyes studying him carefully, but without disdain. It was surreal.

"When I was contemplating relieving you of your head the evening before her departure, she was quick to rush to your side, to ask mercy. It was like a reflex, something far too quick, impulsive, and bold to have been a mere ally helping another. I have a hunch your feelings are reciprocated, and my instincts rarely fail me." Again, Ezra was caught off-guard by the soft-spoken, contemplative tone in the veteran warrior standing with their shadow cast over him. He decided, now, before he lost his nerve, was the time

"Your excellency, all I want is to prove Sabine, myself and what we have together to you like you demanded of her back at your capital. If that's what it takes for us to resume the way things were and return to the Rebellion, then so be it, all I need is an opportunity to prove each to you," Ezra held strong as he kept his head high, determined eyes peering straight and dead center at the visor of Mand'alor the Vindicator. The young Jedi felt the urge to take a step back as the supreme ruler of the Mandalorians stepped forward. He then tried focusing through the Force as he maintained his poise, and Ezra could sense no ill intent from the older man.

"So you say, Ezra Bridger, so you say. Now, what would you say if I told you I'd in fact be willing to provide you a means to prove all three in a single stroke?"

Mand'alor patiently waited as Ezra, once again, had to halt everything else going on in his mind and recollect himself. Was this the same Mandalorian ruler who'd intimidated, strong-armed, demeaned, and threatened himself and Sabine repeatedly over the last few weeks? This towering, armored leader was still just as strong in presence, but seemed vastly more reasonable. Deciding not to press his luck by asking questions, Ezra answered.

"I'd say, I'd be very interested in whatever it is you're thinking, your excellency," the young Jedi's tone was even, respectful, with a hint of curiosity. He could sense the smirk that formed on the face of the veteran Mandalorian, but sensed no ill-intent behind it. As he waited and listened, Ezra caught sight of Kuervo walking up behind his superior.

"It's called the Aka'Manda, or 'Trial of the Oversoul' in Basic. Typically, it is reserved only for Mandalorian warriors who have proven themselves on and off the battlefield as champions of top caliber. Frankly, under normal, traditional practice, neither you nor young Wren are qualified to even be considered permission to perform it. However, I've decided, an unconventional situation requires an unconventional solution," the chrome-clad leader of the clans elaborated, carefully gauging Ezra's reaction once again. He continued, "Your survival is by no means guaranteed. In fact, the ratio of survival versus death and/or disappearance for those who choose to undergo this trial isn't anything to brag about. However, the few who do succeed are forever revered, held in a level above the rest, surpassed only by the reigning Mand'alor in both prestige and respect."

"So you're saying you expect me to risk life and limb on the off chance Sabine and I could actually curry your favor for our own life choices?" Ezra retorted with skepticism, to which Kuervo sharply fired back.

"You're breaking through thin ice with that kind of talk, little boy. Perhaps a lesson in manners amongst your superiors is due?" the Chieftain of Clan Ordo stepped forward, only for the left of Mand'alor's armored hands to press on his shoulder and hold him back. Kuervo watched as his own superior shook his head, telling him to stand down. Returning his focus back to the young Jedi, Mand'alor pressed forward with his plan.

"You're speaking under the assumption this whole matter is entirely regarding my benefit. You're wrong. Do you not understand the implications of your relationship with Sabine, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm a Jedi, and she's a Mandalorian, and that means we're not supposed to be together. Something about ancient history, right?" Ezra felt the need to suppress an eye roll as he asked rhetorically. He could sense Kuervo fuming beneath his helmet, but Mand'alor's own response remained neutral, even-handed. It was too unlike him. He elaborated further.

"Well, the fact that you mistakenly put her in the category of an actual Mandalorian aside, you're right, more or less. There are many amongst my ranks of the most proven and most faithful who would like nothing more than to gut both you and her simply for being what you are, a Jedi and a spawn of dar'manda. Separately the two of you alone would constitute as enemies to our ways and the memory of our ancestors, but together, an outright mockery of both," the supreme Mandalorian ruler wasn't surprised as he paused for Ezra to sharply fire back in defiance. The young man certainly had self-respect and pride for the one he professed to love, and Mand'alor silently mused that he was willing to respect the Rebel for that much.

"But you yourself conceded we were allies when you appointed Sabine as your representative after that mess with Saxon and her clan a couple years back! Doesn't anyone else here know that?!" Ezra tried to reason, making a concentrated effort to hide his impatience. It wasn't working. Still, he was surprised when Mand'alor agreed with him.

"I most certainly did, to an extent, young Jedi. However, surely you know that a single deed in our favor is not enough to undo generations, even millennia of conflict and strife. You and she bear the weight of the sins of those who came before you, both Jedi and turncoats wearing our armor. Such things are not mitigated or shrugged off lightly, and your presence alongside her own certainly only adds to the trials she faces to prove herself to us," having chosen his words carefully, the chrome-clad warlord waited patiently as his message was absorbed into Ezra's skull. The Rebel's expression took on a look of surprise and even dismay at the implications.

"You're saying the fact that I'm with her is hurting her chances to be accepted among her own people?" his tone had softened considerably. Mand'alor seemed to think for a brief moment, but nodded silently, not rebuking or mitigating the crashing, heavy-hearted realization that sunk into Ezra.

"Is it really that much of a surprise to you? Surely you learned at least _something_ of the Jedi's history with my people when traveling alongside both your master and a wayward child of an ancient clan?"

"I suppose… I suppose I never really gave it much thought," Ezra admitted in a defeated tone as he hung his head. Mand'alor continued.

"Regardless, this fact will continue to hound both you and her forever as long as you're both together. However, should you accomplish the Aka'Manda, all doubts will be permanently removed by rite of this ancient passage. There will be none left in our ranks, myself included, with the right to challenge you or her over your close bond ever again. I suggest you take this one last chance, and run with it for everything its worth. Prove yourself worthy of our recognition, and her faith in you, boy."

Several more tense moments of silence passed between them, only the wind and the sounds of the jungle beyond breaking the stillness. Finally, after what seemed longer than it actually was, the young Jedi raised his head to look straight at the armored warlord before him. His deep blue eyes, which only held doubt and sorrow moments ago, now held nothing but fierce determination, a resolution to stand tall and face whatever lay ahead.

"I accept your challenge, Mand'alor the Vindicator."

* * *

Ezra set out early the next morning, after packing supplies and receiving a brief rundown of how the trial was to be performed. So passionate, so determined to do right by the one he loved, he never stopped to consider perhaps he had only been told what he wanted to hear. Back in the command hall, facing the back of his superior as the latter went to work at the main terminal, Kuervo found himself at a loss for the first time in a long while.

"Mand'alor, sir, with all due respect, you know that foolish outsider has no chance of making it back from that trial." What the supreme ruler of the Mandalorian people said next caught him off-guard. It was spoken so readily, and without a shred of remorse.

"You know that, I know that, _she'll_ know that, but he doesn't know, and that's all that matters."

 **A/N: Mando'a Translation:**

Aka'Manda: "Trial of the Oversoul" – An ancient rite of passage for the most hardened of Mandalorian champions. Originally created to test the limits of the top crusaders, it involves a trek deep into the tomb of Freedon Nadd, an ancient Sith Lord who ruled as King of Onderon. His tomb was built deep in the jungle on Dxun. For a Mandalorian to survive the darkest depths within is considered proof their warrior spirit can triumph over the worst of the Force, which is itself regarded as heresy in Mandalorian culture.

 **So it seems upon her return from her own trial, Sabine will find Ezra was set off on his own. That's not the only discovery she'll make regarding him, assuming she returns to the compound that is. The climax of their journey on Dxun is approaching, while the mystery on Nar Shaddaa begins taking shape. All the while, the forces of the Empire remain on the prowl for Rebel survivors.**

 **Three chapters remain, and each will be more riveting than the last I think. The next chapter is when and where that angst I promised begins, so brace yourselves. ;) You have been duly warned. I also plan to address where that flashback left off. If it seems like a plot hole, it was intentional for now.**

 **Another thanks is due to Wikked Grin for his continued efforts as my beta reader. And of course, the same once more to all of you. Reading your feedback, and just seeing the alerts, that makes my day every time. The next chapter is in progress, and should be up in about two weeks as usual. Once more, safe journeys, everyone! :)**


	6. Chapter 6: Cruel and Beautiful

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: Well, here we are ahead of schedule. I suppose it's rather fitting given the delay with the previous chapter. It's time to see how Sabine fared on her Verd'gotten, and how she takes to learning Ezra's off on a trial even more deadly in nature. Now, to clarify a couple points for my two curious guest posts from the last chapter:**

 **Firstly, to be honest, I don't know whether or not Ahsoka is still alive in my continuity as of yet, but I can say she won't be returning in this story. I thought naming a Rebel flagship after her would be a nice nod to her character and importance to the Rebellion. I'm waiting for more potential details regarding her status in Season 4 of Rebels before if and when I decide her own fate in this series. Until then, she can be considered as MIA, missing in action, just as in the TV series. I'm aware she's quite a popular character and I'm contemplating other concepts either involving or referencing her, including a prequel to this saga featuring her, but that will come later on if I go forward with it.**

 **Secondly, no, the Darksaber is gone, and won't be repaired. Its pieces can be presumed lost in that lagoon back on Hutta. Truthfully, I never liked the idea of a type of "Mandalorian Excalibur" determining the merit of a Mandalorian for leadership. I'm partial to how rising in the ranks and status was done in the EU after the Mask of Mand'alor was lost, that being determined by one's own merit and honor as a warrior, alone. Now, that's not to say Sabine has seen the last of her days wielding a blade, but simply put, neither she nor anyone else will use the Darksaber again.**

 **I hope the above helps clarify where the rest of this story is headed. Now, onto the show!**

Chapter 6: Cruel and Beautiful

Three days had passed since Ezra agreed to embark on the Aka'Manda, or Trial of the Oversoul, finally reaching the six week mark since Sabine had departed on her Verd'gotten. Like all who participate, she was given a twenty four hour window to return to the compound, or be written off as a loss. More than a few supercommandos and warriors were visibly surprised at the sight of her pulling herself out of the jungle and through the main gate.

The moment she was inside the gate, she came to a halt. Her normally bright and colorful armor was caked in mud, with more than a few dents and scratches present, at least a couple clearly the result of beastly claws and talons. The once-stuffed blue-grey, olive drab supply pack on her back was in a similar state. It was also noticeably deflated in appearance, revealing virtually everything inside had been used up over the course of the trial. Her bodysuit and pants were similarly mucked up, as well as torn open with holes on the left arm and right leg respectively. Bacta-patches and bandaging were tightly secured over the otherwise exposed skin they revealed, both with dried blood visible underneath.

It wasn't her worn and tired state which concerned her, or caused her pause, however. It was the visible absence of one young man in particular, the single individual whom she'd kept in her thoughts almost constantly during this ordeal. _"Where the kriff is he?"_ Once catching her breath, she trudged her way over to the command hall, which stood on her left. The guards standing at the entrance regarded her with a silent nod, the one on the right motioning to the doorway over his shoulder. Sabine took that as a sign she was heading in the right direction.

Once within the interior, her eyes darted around. Various fellow Mandalorians were present, including Mand'alor and Kuervo standing at the main terminal on the southern wall. No Ezra, though, and that's what concerned her most. Walking up to her supreme ruler, she cleared her throat to gain his attention, and pulled her helmet off as she did so. Her hair and face were in a similar state to her armor, worn and dirtied. Another bacta—patch was placed squarely on her bottom right jawline. Bags of exhaustion hung under her eyes, but the amber irises themselves still shone with what could only be described as fire. The one she wanted to speak to turned and faced her as she neared the terminal, with Kuervo Ordo doing the same. Mand'alor nodded at him from over his shoulder, and the Chieftain of Clan Ordo promptly saluted and departed, briefly glancing in her direction as he did so. The daughter of Clan Wren stood tall and proud as she waited for the one who commanded all of the clans to speak.

"Well, well, consider me marginally impressed, young Wren. It seems that you remember enough of our ways to survive as any of our youth should, at the very least. Regardless, congratulations are in order. You succeeded like any seeking to join our ranks must, and that deserves recognition."

"Mand'alor, your exalted excellency, I am honored. Truly, I am. I know my past sins are a great many, but the opportunities you've afforded me to prove myself better will never be forgotten or squandered any further. But…" she briefly paused to look around and behind her highest-ranked superior. Still, the one she wanted to see the most was nowhere in sight. She returned her focus to the stalwart veteran in front of her, her tone firm and respectful. "A question, sir, if I may?"

"You may ask," the chrome-clad Mandalorian leader nodded, his helmet hiding the knowing, condescending smirk threatening to form beneath it.

"Where's Ezra? We agreed to meet up at the front gate today as soon as I returned. He may seem forgetful, but he's usually very attentive to the important things. And… well, he's always considered me… ah, never mind," Sabine caught herself as she looked off to the side, mentally cursing herself for becoming flustered and blushing while reminiscing about her boyfriend in front of Mand'alor himself. She momentarily considered donning her helmet to hide her beet-red face, but decided it would be too obvious, and that the damage was already done. She was instantly relieved when Mand'alor began to answer without bringing it up. Such relief was short-lived. Oh so terribly short-lived.

"It took some time, but I finally decided what his own trial would be. He surprisingly acquiesced with little difficulty," he paused for a moment to gauge her reaction before continuing, "I sent him on the Aka'Manda."

At that moment, it was as though time itself came to a screeching halt for Sabine Wren. As the words sunk in, and horrifying realization took hold, she heaved a sharp gasp. Her amber eyes flew wide open, disbelief written clear as day on her face as her mouth went agape. Had she heard correctly? Was this really happening? Why else would her heart be collapsing in on itself and plummeting down into her stomach? It took several long, tense moments of silence between them before the daughter of Clan Wren collected herself just enough to form a coherent pattern of speech, her words choppy and just above a pleading, disbelieving whisper.

"Th-the _Aka'Manda_? _The_ Aka'Manda? The Trial of the Oversoul?" she repeated more to herself than him, as if she herself were trying to ram the reality her mind didn't want to believe through to her. She reflexively re-caught her helmet as it slipped from under her arm. She felt numb, heavy, and _cold_. She barely registered his immediate nod, silently affirming her mounting fears as though they were nothing. Or didn't matter. He wasn't fazed as her pleading, bulging eyes peered into his visor. It only terrified her further. "H-how? How could you s-send him out on _that_? He's not even Mandalorian, and most of our own to ever attempt that have never returned!" her tone was becoming more frantic and desperate as the implications resonated deep within her. A grim, unthinkable reality she couldn't dwell on for her own mental wellbeing.

"I explained that to him, but it didn't do much to dissuade him, the proud, confident boy. He left two days ago."

"Call him back! Call him _back_!" she was shouting now, not caring who she was sharply raising her voice to, or who saw. Diplomatic niceties and honor be _damned_! Mand'alor simply raised his hand, and waved his wrist up and down in a dismissive gesture. The other Mandalorians present all departed the chamber without a word, leaving their leader to deal with the increasingly distraught young woman alone. The sole exception allowed was Kuervo, who stood off to the side and watched silently.

"It's out of my hands, girl. You know that as well as I. This was his choice," he explained simply. He showed no signs of concern or sympathy at all. He didn't care. Sabine couldn't stand it. Why was this happening?

"Ezra wouldn't have even known about that trial unless _you_ told him! You _know_ he can't possibly survive that!" the moment the words left her lips, she instantly went silent. Her pleading eyes frantically darted back and forth between Mand'alor and the Chieftain of Clan Ordo. They simply stared at her in silence, not a word of assurance at the situation, or dismissal of the terrible truth becoming apparent to her. Horrifying realization dawned on her, and she frantically blinked back tears that threatened to spill over as they formed rapidly. "Th-that's… that's why you sent him out there… you _want_ him to die… you want him to die!" her agonized cry shifted to a venom-laced accusation as she narrowed her brows, the corners of her eyes brimming with liquid as she confronted the man she called ruler.

"And what if I do, young Wren? What are _you_ going to do about it?" his tone was no longer simple or dismissive. This was condescension, apathy, _cruelty_. He never cared. This was _never_ about Ezra or herself proving themselves worthy. Was this the plan all along? Was she even _supposed_ to return from her six weeks in that kriffing jungle?

None of that mattered now. No, she had all the answers she needed. Since Ezra had left two days ago, it was still about another day's trek on foot to the Tomb of Freedon Nadd. If she could reach him on a commlink or secure a ship, she could bring him back to her before he got himself killed, just as Mand'alor wanted him to! Spinning around on her heel, she quickly stormed off, not caring that exhaustion was beginning to set in, or that her wounds and bruises were flaring up with her brisk pace. Her physical and mental state be damned as well! She was bringing Ezra back to her no matter the cost!

Sabine Wren didn't take five steps outside the command hall before she collapsed onto the grass beneath her, the guards she passed earlier moving to aid her. Her helmet slipped from her grip during the fall. The last thing she faintly caught with her eyes and ears, vision blurred and hazy as she slowly blacked out, was the sight of the guards rushing over and couching down to keep her head from slamming into the ground, and the distorted, commanding voice of Mand'alor sounding behind them.

 _"Ezra… no… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. What have I done?"_

* * *

About another day had passed before Ezra finally caught sight of his destination. After a brief hike across a creek surrounded by thick brush, vines, and trees, he heaved a sigh of relief and his eyes brightened. At last, nothing separated him from the blackened, massive step ziggurat that was the Tomb of Freedon Nadd. Without wasting any time, the young Jedi Knight headed straight to the wide set of ceremonial stars, cracked and collapsed in some locations, and began the climb to the entrance higher up on the face of the structure.

As he trudged his way up one stone step after the next, he recalled his instructions for the trial that would begin the moment he stepped inside. Essentially, the trial required he reach the burial chamber and retrieve a piece of the crumbling mural behind the sarcophagus. Ostensibly, it should be simple enough, but Ezra knew from his studies and a warning from Mand'alor to expect deadly traps as well as potentially life-threatening hallucinations, courtesy of malevolent Force visions amplified by the sinister essence of the Dark Side.

After finally reaching the sulfur-black, double door archway that led inside, the young Jedi took a deep breath, steeling his nerves and focusing his senses. There was no turning back now.

 _"I'll be back in no time, Sabine!"_

* * *

Across the expanse of the jungle moon of Onderon, as her most cherished companion strode past the point of no return, Sabine let out a weak groan as her eyelids slowly cracked open. It took her a minute or so before she realized where she was. The bright lights perfectly illuminated the medical ward inside the Mandalorian compound. Her weary eyes went wide as she remembered how she got there, exhausted, in a panic, overwhelmed.

She didn't know how long she'd been out, but it didn't matter. A quick glance in both directions revealed she was alone in the immediate area, at the very least. She leapt from the hospital bed she'd been tucked away on, the sheets falling away to reveal she'd been stripped of her armor, and was just left in her bodysuit and pants. After carefully removing the IV that had been stuck in her elbow pit, she found her colorful combat boots, minus the shinguards, had been neatly tucked under the bed. She promptly put them back on, but found none of the supply lockers in the vicinity had any of her gear. Grumbling in frustration, she stormed off in a rush, determined to find some way to reach Ezra.

Once outside, Sabine quickly found her way back to the officer's quarters, where the spare room she and Ezra had been afforded stood in the back. She paid the supercommandos, warriors, and guards who eyed her no heed at all. She silently _dared_ any of them to try and stop her. The moment to door flew open, she was inside. Her heart skipped a beat at his familiar scent. She shook it off and went for his supply tout; if the spare commlink was still in there, she could contact him before leaving the compound. It wasn't long before she had her answer.

 _"Yes! Thank you ancestors! Now to- no! No! No!"_

The commlink's power cells had been removed, rendering the device useless. In a panic, Sabine set it aside and went back to digging through the tout for spare power cells. She already knew she'd find none in her own bag; she'd brought them on her Verd'gotten. Her heart sank as minutes passed and no spares were to be found. However, she arched a brow at a curious, tiny black box she didn't recognize. It was no surprise she had missed it earlier, it blended in with the dark fabric of the bag quite well. With the flip of a simple thin metal latch, the top flew open on a spring mechanism. For the second time in the span of twenty four hours, the young Mandalorian felt her world come to a standstill. Once again, her eyes were wide as saucers, and her breath hitched. Surprise was insufficient to describe the tempest of emotions swirling around within her at this moment, frozen in time as far as her collective senses were concerned.

The band was made of cast bronzium, not as pricy as silver or gold, but made to last and endure the elements. It was polished, shining and shimmering in the ray of light allowed through the meager window. She mused in the right light, it could be mistaken for a deep gold. With trembling fingers, she slowly and delicately removed the ring from its snug rest in the white, cushioned fabric in the bed of the small box. Holding it up to the light, completely mesmerized, it took a couple moments before she felt faint indentations. It was then she realized it was engraved on the other side. Just when she had thought she couldn't be any more shaken or caught off-guard, the daughter of Clan Wren was proven wrong instantly. Her amber eyes brimmed with tears as she read the inscription in her mind.

 _"'Mhi Solus Tome'. Oh Ezra, you damn, infuriating, loveable, wonderful man! How could I have not seen this coming?!_

Finally collecting herself just enough and deciding she had wasted too much time, Sabine sprang to her feet, placing the ring back in the box. After retrieving a spare utility belt from her own supply tout, she spun around and rushed out the door. There was no way she would readily catch up with Ezra on foot; she resolved to _commandeer_ one of the fighters at the operations hangar on the northwest side of the compound, with or without permission from the officer on duty. Once outside the officer's quarters, she only made it a couple yards before a familiar, commanding voice halted her in her tracks.

"And just where do you think you're going, daughter of Clan Wren?"

She had been fully prepared to leave the compound without speaking to Mand'alor any further, or ever again. All that mattered was finding Ezra. Of course, Sabine reasoned that the supreme ruler of all Mandalorians wasn't just going to let her leave freely now that he had her in his sights. Fixing a scowl on her face and calming her nerves with a deep breath, she turned to face him. Just as expected, he was looking down on her with arms folded over his chestplate. Several supercommandos and warriors were watching from where they stood in the immediate area.

"I'm going to find Ezra. How long was I out?" she mentally congratulated herself for keeping her voice steady and unwavering. She was surprised when he answered her question, first. She couldn't decide whether to be grateful or infuriated at his nonchalant tone.

"About twenty four standard hours. No doubt the boy has been inside the tomb for at least that amount of time, assuming he even survived the trek into the jungle."

"That _boy_ is stronger than you think," she narrowed her eyes, her voice taking on an icy tone. Mand'alor was unfazed.

"If that's true, you should have no reservations about letting him proceed with his trial unabated," he stated as though it were a matter of fact.

"You know as well as I do he won't survive the Aka'Manda, exactly as you intended," now her words were spoken with venom. This time, his indifference infuriated her without question.

"Is that what you think? You sound rather sure if nothing else."

"You didn't deny it," Sabine instantly retorted, sharply.

"I suppose you have a point, there."

As far as she was concerned, this conversation was just about finished. Still, she decided one final matter was at least worth asking about.

"And I suppose it would be a waste of time asking for the return of my armor and other equipment?" she inquired simply, having a good idea regarding the answer. She didn't have to wait to be proven right.

" _Your_ armor? _Your_ equipment? Such things are meant to be the property of a Mandalorian, but if you leave this compound to try and retrieve that outsider, circumventing my will in the process, you prove yourself unworthy of being called Mandalorian. You may have completed your own trial, but you will not be allowed to use what you have forsaken, young Wren."

Sabine didn't need to hear anything further. She spun around on her heel and continued on her way. She knew the other Mandalorians present were taken aback at her bold defiance, but she didn't care. For his own part, Mand'alor was still completely unfazed at her brazen display. He appeared to decide to give her one final out.

"You give up what was once your property for him, but are you willing to give up your family for him?" as predicted, that brought her to a stop once more. He smirked to himself under his helmet when she looked over her shoulder, her eyes glaring at him.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she challenged, daring him to continue what sounded like a sincere threat. Sure enough, he did so without delay.

"Your clan is unaware, as I've allowed them to think otherwise, but I'm quite well aware they intended to support Saxon and the Empire in their bid to stage a coup against me. That only changed when he threatened _your_ life," he paused momentarily to gauge her reaction. He could see the reality and implications of his words were sinking in. She hid her fear well, but he knew. Her eyes gave her away. "That may have been over two years ago, but my judgement is timeless. By my word, the entirety of Clan Wren could be subjected to extinction. You know Clan Saxon is now all but gone; only those who agreed to turn their blasters on their fellows in support of my rule were spared. Your own would simply be more bodies in the pile of former Death Watch who couldn't quite _readjust_ to proper function in our society."

"You clearly gave the prospect of killing them much thought. So, why didn't you?" For her own part, Sabine decided to see just where this was going. Her brows furrowed, and she felt a bead of sweat form on one of her temples.

"The answer, girl, is you," he knew from her reaction he had her right where he wanted her. "I spared them because I wanted to see how you, the one responsible for turning them against Saxon, would fare in my service. I wanted to see if you could prove Clan Wren still had value to me and our people, alive. I do apologize for not being entirely forthcoming with you, but I couldn't have you alerting your mother or your father to this."

"So, essentially, you're asking me to make a choice between Ezra's life, or the lives of my entire family," at last she understood, and she didn't like it one bit, to say the least. Mand'alor pressed on, grim and serious while outlining the bottom line.

"Not just their lives, but whether or not you and they will _ever_ have a place amongst my ranks and our people at all, ever. Will they be wiped out like Clan Viszla, or hunted to the brink and brought to heel like Clan Saxon? That will be for me to decide, depending on your answer. So please, don't keep me waiting."

"It's not even a decision. I'm going to save Ezra, and then deal with the rest after that. I'm through being manipulated, your _excellency_ ," she spat sarcastically. Still, the supreme ruler of the Mandalorian people wasn't thrown off by her confident defiance. She couldn't see the grin forming behind his visor. At last, he had his answer. At last, it all made sense.

"Do what you feel to have to, lowly and miniscule dar'manda. Just prepare yourself for what comes after."

"Duly noted."

And with that, Sabine continued on without another word. She was done with it all. Henceforth, only people she could trust to stand by her and those near to her would be worth her loyalty. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Mand'alor turned to head back to the command hall. One of the supercommandos who'd witnessed the exchange rushed over, inquiring respectfully with a bow while walking beside him.

"Mand'alor, sir, shall I organize a squad to pursue?"

"No, I have another plan in mind to deal with her and the Jedi. For now, we allow her to go to him. Now, inform Kuervo of this update, I have business at the landing ground," the revered veteran stated and instructed simply in reply.

"As you will, sir!"

* * *

All the while, after spending hours traversing dark corridors and carefully avoiding traps in the faintly-lit interior of the expansive, ancient tomb, Ezra found himself on his hands and knees in the first of three, four-corner antechambers, each featuring a drop off point to a steep, pitch-black chasm at each corner. A severely dim, deep red glow emanating from gothic sconces was the only source of light. The young Jedi was forbidden from using the Force for the duration of the Aka'Manda, but he was fairly certain at this point no effort on his part would drown out the visions and voices tearing away at his conscious and subconscious mind.

"Why?! Why are you showing me these things?!" voice cracked, face streaming with tears that stained the cold floor beneath him, Ezra wailed as for but a moment his senses were returned to him. A loud, demented cackle reverberated throughout the chamber, and within his very mind. The deep, disembodied voice of Freedon Nadd echoed forth.

"It's not often I get visitors, far rarer still someone with such a strong connection to the Force. I can see your meager life has been full of pain, loss, humiliation, and rejection. This is going to be so much fun! I will break you just as I broke _him_!"

 **A/N: Mando'a Translation:**

Mhi Solus Tome: "We Are One Together" – The first line in a set of four that make up traditional Mandalorian wedding vows. While having learned a fair amount of Mando'a from Sabine in their time together so far, Ezra took the time to study these verses and other Mandalorian marriage customs of his own volition.

 **Next chapter is the climax of the story, with the fate of our favorite young Rebels revealed at last. Obstacles both new and ancient threaten their relationship and their lives, and the Mandalorians aren't quite finished with them, yet. And now, there's also Ezra's planned proposal to consider, for the young Mandalorian, hehe. ;)**

 **Once again, I extend my sincerest gratitude to Wikked Grin for his proofreading on my behalf, and to all of you for your patronage and response. I expect the next chapter to be ready in about the same timeframe as always, around two weeks. Thanks again, everyone!**


	7. Chapter 7: Alone in the Dark

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: At last, we arrive at the climax of this story. Ezra's trial in the Tomb of Freedon Nadd will end, here, one way or another. Sabine resolves to reach him before he gets himself killed trying to prove himself in a deadly test purposely meant for him to fail, and all the while, the eyes of Mand'alor and a much darker entity are upon them. Enjoy!**

 **Warning: This chapter contains graphic visions of execution, character death, and dismemberment. In addition, real depictions of serious injury and blood. Viewer discretion is advised.**

Chapter 7: Alone in the Dark

About half an hour had passed since Sabine departed the Mandalorian compound in a stolen _Mankvim_ -814-class starfighter. It wasn't difficult to adjust to the proper course; the coordinates to the tomb were already programmed into the navicomputer. The daughter of Clan Wren discovered shortly after takeoff that the fighter was only designed for short-range travel and as a result lacked a hyperdrive. It also lacked a long-range communications sensor, and so calling the Rebel fleet for help was out of the question. She was relieved to have discovered, at least, that the cockpit was equipped with a survival pack stowed under the pilot's seat, which included a spare utility belt and holdout blaster pistol.

 _"_ _No wonder Mand'alor didn't object to me taking this thing; he knows we'll have nowhere to go with it afterwards,"_ she thought with a huff.

The sky over the jungle moon was packed with darkening clouds, and the rumbling of thunder along with it signaled that yet another storm was nearing. Fortunately, amidst the jungle canopy, the towering pinnacle of the Tomb of Freedon Nadd was now visible outside of the viewscreen. Shutting off the autopilot, Sabine began to maneuver the fighter down towards the small clearing at the foot of the massive, pitch black ziggurat that was her destination.

* * *

A few minutes later, back at the compound, inside the main room at the command hall, Mand'alor stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back, observing the data feed on the main terminal in silence. He heard a familiar set of footsteps walk up behind him, and he didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Kuervo, good. Has the fighter touched down outside the tomb?" he inquired readily. His faithful staff officer replied without delay.

"Indeed, Mand'alor, sir! The Wren girl deactivated the transponder, but the locator beacon you had placed under the hull switched on the moment the engines were shut off. Seems your intuition was correct as usual, your excellency. The scouts have confirmed she entered the tomb."

"She's a sharp one, that child of dar'manda, but I'm sharper. What of the boy?" the Mandalorian ruler asked further.

"The scouts also informed us that their scanners can no longer detect his heat signature through the walls."

"I see, then he made it to at least the first antechamber. I do believe that's my cue. I trust my shuttle is ready to deploy?"

"Of course, sir," Kuervo gave a nod as he affirmed, Mand'alor turning to face him.

"Very well. I leave you in command, here, until I return. It's time to finish this."

With that, Mand'alor took his leave, walking over to another armored subordinate who came over holding a long, rectangular, plasteel case. Pulling the lid open, the new arrival silently displayed an ancient vibroblade with a dark black hilt that closely resembled Mand'alor's own. The aging veteran gently ran his gloved right hand over the side of the blade, his visage reflected in the polished metal.

* * *

A short while later, within the expanse of the dark corridor leading past the first antechamber inside the Tomb of Freedon Nadd, Ezra was back on his feet, but partially slumped against the wall on his left, his hand on that side splayed against it. Evidently, it was to brace himself from falling, as most of his focus seemed to be taken up by the torturous headache tearing through his frontal lobe. He held his forehead in his right hand, and kept his eyes clenched shut. It was no ordinary headache. The same torturous voice from before was whispering and echoing in his mind, digging up and displaying painful memories of his past like a set of demented home holomovies. The current one, however, startled him visibly, and his eyes burst open for a moment before he sealed them under his eyelids once again, willing and failing to force the images from his mind.

 _The_ Ghost _had just lifted off from Lothal after the brief skirmish that successfully saw Ezra and Kanan's escape from Imperial forces with the young representative of Alderaan, Princess Leia Organa, in tow. They may have been unable to secure the Old Republic warships the princess meant for them to claim, but they weren't throwing in the towel just yet. Still, with the immediate danger to them now passed, Ezra quickly found his mind was once again free to dwell on the terrible news he'd received just a couple days prior. He now knew for certain both of his parents, whom he hadn't seen in years, were dead and never coming back._

 _When Kanan broke the news to the rest of the crew, each of them offered their sympathies, and when he felt Sabine place her hand on his shoulder, he slowly looked up in anticipation of what she had to add._

 _"_ _Hey, at least now you know," that was it, all she said to him before pulling back._

 _The gesture and the simple words that came with it were of little comfort to him. True, he doubted much of anything would right now, but he wished it could be different. It wasn't that what she said was wrong, it just wasn't quite… enough. It only served to remind him his efforts to be forthcoming and supportive of her, as awkward and inexperienced as they were, were completely one-sided. He left without saying a word to her or anyone else. The last thing he needed right now was another reason to be depressed._

The sinister chuckling of the voice signaled that yet another painful memory was over, for the moment at the very least. This unwelcome presence, an echo of Freedon Nadd, mocked him with every word.

 _"_ _I'll admit this, you mask your fear well, for a puny little runt of a Jedi. Yet, even the strongest of beings have their greatest weakness, and I just found yours!"_

"I say otherwise!" Ezra stood tall and defiant, just as he usually did when challenged. "What I feel for Sabine is no concern of yours, _Sith_! What point is possibly served in drudging up the memories of a time long past?"

 _"_ _Don't be so eager to disregard what the past can teach you. She made her opinion of you known quite well, back then. She made it clear more than once. Yet still, you followed her around like some love-sick oaf for months, even well over a year. I think she had you pegged from the start, little Jedi. It would've been more merciful if she simply shot you down from the start! Pointed out every last reason why she wasn't interested in you in even the slightest!"_

"Hey, if you can see into my mind so easily, you know my persistence paid off! And besides, I thought you Sith didn't believe in mercy!" Ezra sharply retorted. The voice simply chortled before continuing.

 _"_ _Naïve child! Disbelieving in something, and ignorance about it, are two different things entirely. How can you be so sure old habits have truly died? How can you be oh so certain what you and she say you feel for one another is genuine?"_

"Shut up! I don't need someone who's evil _and_ dead lecturing me about love!" The young Jedi now felt his anger returning. How dare this malevolent presence presume to question what he and his favorite young woman have for one another!

 _"_ Ouch _! That hurt!"_ the voice mocked with a deep, dark, demented chuckle. _"Look at you, carrying yourself high and mighty as if you're something special! Answer me this, little Jedi, if what you and this Mandalorian feel for each other is so mutual, so real, then why is she willing to drop you and go crawling back to her people who abandoned her without a second thought?! Answer me, oaf!"_

"You lie! Just because Sabine wants to prove herself to Mand'alor doesn't mean she's going to abandon me or any of our new family in the Rebellion!"

 _"_ _She was fully prepared to do just that when she thought it's what her birth family would ask of her! You remember that, don't you?"_ the echo of Freedon Nadd had his answer instantly. Ezra knew it was useless to deny it. The maniacal revenant laughed and roared with wild abandon. _"Ah, you do remember! What was could just as easily come again, but it would be far more than your weeping little heart she cuts down in the end! So who is it_ really _, who repeats lies inside your skull? I see your fears! I_ know _you dread to lose her in this worst possible way! See what you've foolishly ignored and denied for too long! She saw you as nothing, once! She could just as easily do so again! No amount of love you have for her will_ ever _change that!"_

Terrified and enraged as the voice practically ripped through his eardrums, Ezra drew and ignited the ancient lightsaber he'd claimed on Yavin 4, the purple blade briefly providing additional light to where he stood in the dimply-lit corridor. However, an unseen blast of Force energy hurled him into the wall behind him with a startled yelp. The blade immediately disengaged, the hilt falling to the floor just as he too fell forward onto his hands and knees. He wasn't prepared for the sight that awaited him when he lifted his head.

 _The bitterly cold wind howled and whipped at his face as he recognized a familiar setting all around him. A frozen lake dead ahead, lined with pine trees caked in snow all around as far as the eye could see. Tall mountains with the substance covering their peaks and most faces rose up to meet the sky, dark with thick, grey clouds. Yet, it was the people who stood around him that quickly caught his attention. They were all clearly Mandalorian, though most wore armor he didn't recognize, and all had their faces hidden beneath helmets. A few were more familiar though. Fenn Rau along with Ursa and Tristan Wren were all clearly present, and so was Fenn Shysa, Kuervo Ordo, and Spar. The assembly was silent, uttering not a word to each other or to him._

"What's going on? How did I get to Krownest?" _he wondered to himself. He was laying on his stomach, and feeling something hard and cold beneath him. Looking, down he saw he was laid out on a stone slab, and struggled uselessly against a set of duranium binders and accompanying shackles. A matching collar was locked around his neck as well. Steel cables from each kept him bound to braces on the stone slab._ "What the kriff? What is this?!"

 _Seemingly out of nowhere, both Mand'alor and Sabine appeared behind him, the latter with a vibrosword drawn. Ezra felt uneasy as they stood with their shadows cast over him. The Mandalorian ruler spoke first, addressing the woman the young Jedi loved._

 _"_ _You have performed well as instructed, young Wren. Now, your final test is at hand: kill this Jedi."_

 _The cold, commanding instruction to take his life didn't terrify the young Jedi anywhere near as much as the reply the woman he loved gave to her fearsome superior._

 _"_ _As you order, your excellency," not even a single hint of regret. She spoke without emotion, like a simple labor drone acknowledging its task. Ezra audibly stiffened with a gasp, choked by the collar._

 _"_ _Sabine?" he rasped weakly as he looked at her from over his shoulder, worry and fear belying the disbelief and hurt. She seemed to spare him a small glance from behind her helmet visor, but said nothing. She simply stepped closer while raising her blade, grasping the hilt tightly. "Sabine?!" he called out more urgently. Still no response. Instead, Mand'alor spoke up again, declaring to all the onlookers._

 _"_ _Let this serve as a warning to all who dare challenge the might of Mandalore. Our clans, unified under one banner, are unstoppable!"_

 _"_ _For honor, for glory, for Mandalore!" all of the supercommandos and warriors present raised their fists as they chanted loudly in unison._

 _"_ _Sabine?!" Ezra was shouting now, rattling uselessly against his bonds. "Don't do this! Please!" fear, terror, heartbreak, it was all pouring out to no avail. "I love you!"_

 _The blade came down without a word or even a second glance, and all was silent again. Ezra had reflexively shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, he found himself standing again, this time in a large chamber dimly lit in a deep red glow matching the corridors and chambers of the tomb. Looking ahead, across the expanse of a long, rectangular reflecting pool, the young Jedi spotted a lone stone sarcophagus that stood rising against the back wall. Above that, a severely worn and fractured mural. Ezra couldn't make out any further details from where he stood, but it was apparent he was indeed back in the tomb on Dxun, and somehow inside the burial chamber at last._

 _Not giving much thought to it, Ezra steadily yet cautiously approached the mural, ignoring the sarcophagus. Close up, it was clearer that the mural was indeed crumbling after millennia of neglect. It featured what appeared to be an ancient battle between Jedi and Sith, likely during Freedon Nadd's rise to power on Onderon. Delicately, Ezra reached up to try and break off a piece from where it was splintered and broken the most, where the bottom right corner used to be. However, the moment he touched it, a single piece didn't break off, but the entire mural crumbled into a black ash and a mysterious wind that came out of nowhere blew it away._

 _"_ _No, no, no, NO!" Ezra frantically reached for the ashes, but it seemed as though the moment they were out of his reach, they vanished completely._

 _At that moment, the sliding door of the sarcophagus behind him flew open with a loud and heavy bang. Ezra looked over just as the lid on the engraved stone coffin inside slid off and hit the floor. Unintelligible, disembodied whispers seemed to be coming from all directions, but a quick scan of the area with his eyes revealed nothing. He knew he should be alarmed, but he felt something pulling at him, as though he were supposed to see what lay inside that coffin. Slowly, he walked around to the front of the sarcophagus, the coffin coming into view. At this point, the only sound was that of his footsteps. They stopped short the moment the sight that awaited him met his widening eyes._

 _One might normally expect to find some old bones or even a few trinkets laid to rest along with them inside an ancient resting place. This sarcophagus and coffin were completely empty, with a single, horrifying exception: Ezra saw his bloodied, severed head unceremoniously plopped on its side on the bottom of the coffin._

 _Gasping in terror at the sight, Ezra stumbled back until he hit someone standing behind him. Looking over his shoulder as he stumbled again, this time forward, his jaw dropped the moment he saw what was a towering, bulky humanoid figure clad in dark red robes with a dark orange, ornate chest plate and jeweled helmet that topped in the points of a crown. The face was wrinkled, sickly pale, and the eyes were glowing an intense shade of deep red. What terrified Ezra now was, not the stranger whose gnarled teeth barred in a twisted, evil grin, but the fact that under his arm, he held the young Jedi's headless corpse, the gaping neck muscles and sliced vertebrae clearly displayed for him. The stranger then roared at the top of his lungs in the exact same voice that had been torturing him since he first arrived in the tomb, his cracked lips arching in a wider, vicious and toothy smile._

 _"_ _RUUUUUUUUN!"_

From where he lay on the floor, a wordless scream of his terror and agony tore from him and into the air of the corridor, echoing far and wide in both directions. His eyes didn't open until it was silent again, and the young Rebel had no idea an outburst of tremendous Force energy had surged forth with it, the magnitude so intense it caused the ancient stone floors, ceiling, and walls to crack in the immediate area around him.

Leaping to his feet, Ezra instantly broke off into a run further down the corridor. He didn't even bother recalling his discarded lightsaber to him with the Force. He choked back a sob as tears dropped from his eyes at a rapid pace. So blinded by his pain and fear, he didn't even notice when one of the stone tiles he stepped on activated a switch built into the floor, a booby trap. Close to the floor on the wall to his right, a single stone block sunk into the wall and slid to the side, revealing a lone firing tube that launched a razor-lined dart. The serrated blade slashed right through Ezra's right calve, so far under the knee it just barely missed his Achilles tendon. It nearly clipped bone.

The sickening sound of metal slicing flesh reached Ezra's ears as the bladed dart, and the piece of him it took with it, made a thwack as it hit the left wall, the tip so sharp it had no trouble puncturing even the cold, hard stone that made up the tomb. It might've missed its intended target on the hapless victim, but the trap did succeed in its purpose. The young Jedi howled in pain and lost his balance the moment his right foot made contact with the floor again. Tumbling down onto the floor as a steady stream of blood splattered across the floor behind him, Ezra landed on his cybernetic arm, the intensity of the impact nearly breaking through the frame. Between the emotional and physical agony coursing through him, Ezra barely registered the twisted, maniacal laughter of his unseen tormentor. He wasn't even registering the loss of blood now threatening his survival.

 _"_ _Hahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

"Ezra!" The young Jedi recognized that voice instantly the moment it met his ears, and he froze. It couldn't be, could it? No, it was another cruel trick! That had to be it!

"No, no! Stay back! Stay away from me! You're not real!" Voice strained and desperate, Ezra twisted around onto his back, the purple light illuminating his frightened, pained, and tear-stained face. Sabine, for her part, felt her chest twist at the sight. She took a step forward, the pang increasing as he instantly scooted himself back, groaning weakly as he did so. He rasped out, "You're a lie!" She opened her mouth speak again, her expression now mirroring his own, but a new arrival beat her to it. A familiar voice she didn't want to here right now, or ever again.

"No, the ghost of the Sith Lord laid to rest here is simply cruel."

The young Jedi nearly tripped on his own feet once again as he stepped back further, and Sabine whipped around as the footsteps of Mand'alor the Vindicator neared, his unpainted chrome armor slightly gleaming in the dim light of the sconce on the wall to his left. Drawing the holdout pistol from the survival pack, she took aim squarely at the center of his helmet visor. He didn't even slow his advance towards them, or move to draw a weapon of his own.

"Stay back, I'm warning you!" the young Mandalorian gritted out through clenched teeth. She wasn't too surprised when he still didn't even slow his march in the slightest.

"Slightly less than amusing, girl. Rest assured if I truly wanted you _or_ him dead, we wouldn't be speaking," the supreme ruler of the Mandalorians didn't come to a halt until he was upon her, the end of the small blaster barrel pressed squarely to his chestplate. The confident, defiant expression Sabine had worn just a moment ago was beginning to waver as Mand'alor literally looked down upon her. What he said next, however, reminded her why she was inside such a dark, desolate place to begin with. "Instead of attempting another bout of wasted, stubborn bravado, perhaps you should focus on that poor little Jedi bleeding to death behind you?"

"Ezra!" she cried with a gasp as she ran over to him, kneeling beside him and setting the blaster aside.

"S-S-Sabine?" Ezra asked weakly, the loss of blood now enough for him to forget the fear she and Mand'alor were simply more visions sent to torture him.

"We need to get you something to stop the bleeding! Wait, I know!" rising to her feet, Sabine then pulled off the boot on her right foot. The utility belt she recovered was fitted with a small medical kit, but it lacked the means to cover a wound as severe as Ezra's.

Lifting her pant leg up slightly, she tightly gripped the beige-brown fabric and sharply tugged, successfully tearing it off from her upper thigh on down. Ezra may have begun to feel lightheaded from the loss of blood, but he still had enough of his senses about him to recognize the sight of Sabine inadvertently displaying her toned, bare leg to him. He audibly stuttered and his face flushed, unable to tear his wide eyes away. If anything, at least his current predicament helped draw at least some blood away from his injury, up to his reddening face.

"Here, now just hold still for me okay?" Sabine knelt back down and elevated his leg. In the dim light of the tomb, it was difficult to see his wound, even as she felt his sticky blood coat her fingers.

In a clear surprise to the two Rebels, Mand'alor activated the floodlight built into the left side of his helmet, above the comm receiver. The bright light provided Sabine the visibility she needed, and she grimaced for a moment at the grisly sight. She saw him wince out of the corner of her eye, and she carefully set about her task. After delicately cleaning the wound with antiseptic from the medical kit, she snugly wrapped her torn pant leg around Ezra's calve and shin, over and over in multiple layers before finally tying the two ends together in a tight knot. She sighed in relief when the task was done. It wasn't optimal, but it looked like it would stop the bleeding, and that's what mattered right now. A potential fatal injury and possible infection was abated.

"Sabine?" Ezra's voice broke the silence after a few minutes of uneasy rest.

"Hmm?" she raised her head to look her most cherished companion in the eyes, and nearly jumped when Mand'alor came over, tapping a flashlight to her shoulder, signaling he wanted her to take it. She took it, and also accepted the holdout blaster back from his other hand. Evidently, he wanted her to keep her guard up. She was aware the tomb was a very dangerous place; Ezra's injury made that clear enough. Still, she was trying to figure out why he was helping them out _at all_ , as if their lives had value to him.

Mand'alor didn't utter a word as he turned and walked back to retrieve Ezra's fallen lightsaber. He held the hilt up as he studied the intricate, ancient design on it. He remained silent, almost seemingly in a trance while looking at the weapon closely. Ezra knew there was something he wasn't sharing, but decided to press his more immediate concern, first.

"Sabine," he paused and waited for her to meet his eyes again, "Why did you come here?" he seemed genuinely surprised, but at least apparently convinced she was real at last. Strangely, even the disembodied voice of Freedon Nadd had fallen silent, and the headache that had been pounding in his skull was gone. Somehow, for the first time since he set foot inside this wretched place, things felt… _okay_.

"It's because I love you, you crazy Jedi," Sabine answered simply with a warm smile. She was relieved he was speaking clearly again, albeit still worn and tired, and his eyes seemed more focused than before. Both were a good sign. Delicately, she wound her arms around his frame and pulled him to her, gently placing his head in her lap. For the first time in the last few weeks, Ezra smiled as well.

Their arduous journey was not yet over, but each knew the other was alright, and that's what mattered most right now.

 **A/N: Now, with the evacuation of Yavin 4 complete and the trials on Dxun over, the immediate danger to our favorite Rebels, outside the films, has passed. Still, more questions than answers remain, some raised in this chapter I'm sure. Be assured I intend to deliver in the final chapter, which is already well underway. I expect it to be ready in the usual timeframe.**

 **Once again I give my gratitude to Wikked Grin for his time on my behalf, and all of you for your continued support and response. This fandom is one of the best I've been a part of, if I may be so bold. Once more, until next time, and best wishes to you all! :)**


	8. Chapter 8: We Are One Together

Star Wars: Rebels: Hearts of Warriors

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars Rebels and all Star Wars characters and Lore are not my property, as they are all owned by Lucasfilm and the Walt Disney Company.**

 **A/N: At last, we've reached the final chapter. Much is about to be decided for our favorite young Rebels. I won't delay this any further, you have all waited long enough. Enjoy!**

 **Warning: This chapter contains some strong but limited depictions of suggestive content. I've decided it's indeed nothing to warrant a rating change after consulting with a couple of my peers, but still please be advised if you are sensitive to such content.**

Chapter 8: We Are One Together

Within the burial chamber inside the tomb of Freedon Nadd, the absence of any physical presence betrayed the echoes of disembodied voices calling out to one another, both rattling the usually still waters of the reflecting pool. The first a remnant of the deceased buried not far away, and the second a presence reaching out from far, far beyond.

 _"No! Damn you! I almost had him! His mind was mine!"_

 _"You will not harm this one. I won't allow it, former King of Onderon."_

* * *

Several more minutes had passed in the dark corridor elsewhere in the tomb before Mand'alor spoke up again.

"We should move back to the entrance of this place, soon. As soon as the storm clears, we'll be returning to the compound," he wasn't that surprised when the young Rebels immediately objected with surprised and distrustful looks, from the young Jedi and young Mandalorian respectively. Ezra retorted, first. He sounded surprised and panicked. He was looking up at the ceiling with his head still cradled gently in his girlfriend's lap.

"Wait! I'm not leaving, yet! I haven't finished the Aka'Manda!"

"Ezra…" Sabine sighed and he looked up at her in confusion, "Mand'alor here never intended for you to complete the trial. He knows it's too dangerous for you, or me," to his credit, the Mandalorian leader didn't even flinch when Sabine shot him a death glare. "He sent you out here knowing your attempt would get you killed."

"What?! No!" Ezra's eyes shot open, and he raised his head to look at Mand'alor with a disbelieving stare. Still, fear and doubt began to creep their way back into his mind as he waited for an explanation. He had his confirmation the second the chrome-clad warlord didn't deny it. He answered with his typical nonchalant disposition.

"She's correct, to an extent, boy. I sent you on this _trial_ without expecting you to complete it, because you were never supposed to. However, there's more to it than this simple deception," he paused and waited for Ezra to absorb the revelation, and as predicted, it wasn't well-received.

"What? You're telling me this was all a ruse?" disbelief gave way to scandalized outrage, and Ezra narrowed his wide eyes as he continued, "You sent me out here to _die_ on purpose!" the young Jedi pointed an accusatory finger, and Sabine held her own glare at the ruler of her people. Not unexpectedly, said ruler was unfazed.

"Now, before you try standing up and likely reopen that wound of yours, perhaps you'll at least let me finish spelling this out for you? Consider the predicament the two of you are in; I'm your best bet for survival, young rebels," Mand'alor reasoned, and for her own part, Sabine allowed her expression to soften.

"He's not wrong, Ezra, as much as I hate to admit it," she huffed while looking back down sympathetically at her boyfriend, who sighed and nodded after a moment of thought.

"Fine. Explain," Ezra ground out with an icy tone. Mand'alor seemed to not notice the attitude, or more likely, he simply did not care.

"I've fought against and alongside Jedi more than once, and I believe at this point I have a fair amount of knowledge as to how their kind operate. You may be the first example I've met face to face in years, but something about you seemed, _different_. I wanted to determine whether or not that was a good or bad _different_ ," pausing for a moment to look over to Sabine, he continued, "The same could be said of you too in a way, girl."

 _That_ , she didn't expect.

"What do you mean?" she arched a brow, and spoke with wariness and uncertainty.

"You were born into the worst betrayal that ever infected our civilization. Until the fall of the Republic, I spent nearly my entire life fighting and destroying all who called themselves Death Watch. I served under two Mand'alors who led the charge against the betrayers. I speak of Clans Viszla, Kyrze, Wren, all of the dar'manda who dared to pervert our customs and the memory of our ancestors with their barbarism, and that was before being anointed to the mantle of leadership myself," taking a step forward as he spoke seriously and grimly, the young Rebels resisted the urge to recoil as he elaborated, "Your mother and father served that betrayal willingly. Why should I have ever presumed one of their offspring would think and act differently, especially considering what a devoted follower your brother is to the two of them? And yet, after observing your mannerisms alongside this boy in person, I realized for the first time in a good while, things weren't as clear cut as I'd seen before. You were different, just like this boy you profess to love," as he finished, the supreme ruler of the Mandalorian people shifted his gaze back to Ezra, who seemed confused at this choice of words. Sabine was the first to respond, though.

"What are you saying, sir?" she inquired cautiously, if a bit hopeful. Taking a deep breath, Mand'alor confessed the truth of this elaborate ruse to his not-so-willing guests, speaking clearly and decisively. He was finally certain, after all this, that he had the answers he required.

"Neither of you conducted yourself as a True Mandalorian would, but you still carried yourselves with honor to an extent I had not anticipated you would. The blatant hypocrisy of the Jedi, and the self-serving corruption of Death Watch, was not overtly present in either of you. It was your apparent devotion to one another, however, that intrigued me the most. I couldn't help but wonder, just how far would you go for the other? Would you risk life and limb, face down and defy every single thing fate and myself would throw against you? Right here, right now, I have all the answers I've required of you two."

"Are- are you kriffing me?!" Sabine retorted after several moments of stunned silence. "You nearly got Ezra killed on _purpose_ just to prove a point?!" she accused, outraged and seething. Ezra remained more relaxed, if a bit unnerved, but wasn't surprised at the absence of sympathy or regret from Mand'alor. However, the young Jedi also still couldn't sense any malice or deception, just as before. So, he knew the chrome-clad warlord's motives were sincere, even if not straightforward in the least.

"Sabine, wait," he summoned her attention in a low voice just above a whisper, drawing her focus back to him as he looked up at her. "He has no negative intent, and he's telling us the truth. I can tell. Maybe… maybe what he's saying is worth considering."

"You wouldn't be this enraged and irrational if you didn't care for the boy, young Wren," the Mandalorian ruler interjected. "I say your reaction and his commitment to this task reiterate the relevance of my decision." Another few moments of uncomfortable silence passed. Then a minute, and then another. Finally, the young Mandalorian seemed to relax her nerves at least somewhat as the reality of the situation sunk in.

"You could have just asked us how we normally acted, and how we felt about one another," Sabine stated with exhaustion, finally letting the emotional wear and tear slip in her tone. Ezra delicately reached up to cup her cheek gently, and she just as softly closed a hand around his as she looked down at him, a warm expression taking hold of her features to match his own.

"Words are trivial. It is only through action the truth is laid bare for all to see," Mand'alor explained resolutely. It was Ezra who spoke up next, peering directly into the armored man's visor.

"So, does this mean we… _passed_ your judgement?"

"I suppose it does," was the immediate reply, "I apologize for the deception, but it was necessary. If it makes you feel better, I took precautions to ensure neither of you would die in this place, in the off-chance something went wrong," and at this, Ezra's disbelieving glare returned.

" _Off-chance_? I nearly lost my foot!"

"In my culture, scars are something to be proud of, boy," the leader of Mandalore was droll and unapologetic.

"Well in _my_ culture, we- ah!" the young Jedi was startled as the woman he loved pulled him into a warm embrace, and it was then he noticed she had tears of relief silently trailing down her face. Shifting focus completely, he gently wiped them away while wrapping his cybernetic arm around her in turn, pulling her in tighter.

* * *

 _One Year, Eleven Months Prior:_

 _As yet another torrential rainstorm continued to rage outside the Temple of Sacrifice on Yavin 4, in the dim light of the chamber they'd taken up shelter in, Ezra watched with a gentle, warm smile as he observed his girlfriend sleeping peacefully beside him, using their supply packs for pillows. It had been nearly three hours since the storm arrived outside. If he were to be honest with himself, he was growing a bit concerned. Midday storms on the jungle moon of Yavin typically lasted half an hour to an hour or so at most. This could be a freak event, but something in the back of his mind was telling Ezra this wasn't a natural weather phenomenon._

 _Already having spent a considerable amount of time trying and failing to get his comm unit to break through the interference of the storm, Ezra decided to try one more time higher up inside the temple. Rising to his feet, and after looking back at his most cherished companion one more time, he headed further into the ancient stone structure. Several minutes soon doubled, and the young Jedi increasingly grew frustrated at his inability to locate even a single set of stairs. After rounding a corner, he saw and opening to an exterior courtyard at the end of another hallway. At first, nothing to spare a second glance yet, but Ezra quickly noticed that somehow, no rain was pelting the courtyard even though it was clear further beyond outside the storm was still raging in full blast._

 _It looked like it was the site of outdoor ceremony, with a large, circular stone dais taking up the majority of the area. His curiosity piqued, and that strange sense in the back of his mind telling him he was_ supposed _to walk forward, Ezra headed out into the courtyard and stepped up onto the dais, looking around in all directions as he did so. He never saw the lightning flash coming as he arrived at the very center of the dais. The bolt missed him, but he was out cold as he fell down._

 _In his subconscious mind's eye, on the dais, he saw a man, wearing a black and red mask that appeared to be of Mandalorian design. He wore a matching set of robes and boots with a black, hooded cloak, and bronzium chest armor and gauntlets. He held two lightsabers, one in each hand. In the right, red. In the left, purple. Both hilts gleamed with silver and bronzium._

 _The man wasn't alone. He was surrounded by foes, all fighting him to the death. Among them were two, male and female, Mandalorian commandos, and a dark-haired female Jedi with a blue, double-bladed lightsaber. There were also three Sith: a blonde woman and a man, the latter in deep red armor with shoulder spikes and a mask, both wielding single-hilts. The third Sith wore a crimson red cloak and had a dark black and silver skull-like helmet with matching shoulder plates. This one was sporting a double-bladed saber as well, a red blade like his fellow Dark Side champions._

 _The battle was intense, fierce, vicious, even. The man stood his ground in the center of the dais, holding off his attackers one by one. Ezra could see, though, slowly but surely his defenses were being worn down. Force telekinesis and lightning blasted from multiple hands, lightsaber blades clashed, and blasters and rockets fired. Then, with another crackle of natural lightning from overhead, all was still once more._

 _When he opened his eyes, the first thing Ezra noticed was that it had stopped raining, at last. He was laying on his side at the center of the dais, and the hilt of the lightsaber the masked and cloaked combatant held in their left hand was directly in front of him. Confused, yet curious, Ezra pulled himself up and retrieved the ancient lightsaber. The moment he rose to his feet, and activated the purple blade, the sun shined through the dark clouds above, the first ray of light illuminating the courtyard, the dais, and Ezra as he held the blade aloft._

 _Not sure what to make of this turn of events, he deactivated the lightsaber and took it with him as he abruptly turned and headed back inside the temple. The moment he rounded the corner he'd passed minutes earlier, the faint, transparent image of the same masked and cloaked man manifested back under the light on the dais. He mused a single phrase aloud before fading away._

 _"_ _You're on your way, Ezra Bridger."_

* * *

Present Day:

Opening his eyes slowly while groaning, Ezra found himself on one of the narrow beds in the infirmary back at the compound. Pulling the thin sheet up with his free arm, as the other had an IV in it, he noticed his wounded calve had been properly treated and tightly bandaged. Painkillers and numbing agents had rendered feeling in that area next to non-existent. However, he had no trouble recognizing the feelings of relief and jubilance at seeing his girlfriend walk over and sit on the edge of the bed while facing him. He immediately noticed she had been given back her armor, along with her blasters holstered on her hips once more.

"Hey there, finally awake I see," she beamed at him meaningfully, and he couldn't help but smile at her. It was purely reflexive at this point.

"Hey, how long was I out?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"About twelve hours. You should be good to walk again in a couple of days," she told him earnestly, to which he smirked.

"I think I can cut that time in half if I use that Force healing technique Kanan showed me," the smirk faded as he noticed what she had on her finger. She wasn't even trying to hide it. "Uh, Sabine, where'd you get that ring?" he inquired just above a whisper. She proudly displayed it for him, grinning cheekily as she did so, thoroughly enjoying his baffled, flushed face.

"Oh, I found it the other day. It's a gift from someone very close to me, you know," she was snarky in her reply, and his smirk returned.

"So… I take it that's a yes?" his eyes peered into hers as she scooted closer. Deep blues were confident and hopeful, just like the amber ones in front of them.

"Duh," she laughed softly, and he chuckled in response. They wore matching grins before finally, their lips met in a sweet, tender kiss.

"I'll be needing that back for a bit," he whispered as they separated, "Just so I can give it to you properly," he added for clarification. She rolled her eyes with a headshake.

"Sure thing, but you should know you'll have to ask my father for permission first. It's a sign of respect to my clan," she explained with a level of seriousness. His grin merely returned, wider than before.

"Already done! I- uh, asked him before we left the base weeks ago," he chuckled sheepishly, to which she snorted.

" _Of course_ you did, you dork," she retorted good-naturedly. He knew just what to say to that.

"I'm your dork," now it was his turn to snark at her.

"Yes, you are," she admitted with a smile. She began leaning in again, but the telltale sound of footsteps caused her to recoil instead. Sure enough, Mand'alor had arrived.

"Ah, good, you're awake at last. I suppose a welcome back is in order," he regarded the young Jedi with a nod."

"Thank you, Mand'alor. Um, how did I get here, exactly?" the thought suddenly occurred to Ezra. The Mandalorian ruler answered simply with a shrug.

"I carried you here over my shoulder, after you fell asleep that is."

"Wait, you _what_?" Ezra squeaked, incredulous at the thought.

"It was no trouble. I've throttled men twice your build," Mand'alor stated as a matter of fact, to which Ezra grumbled and looked off to the side. Sabine recaptured his attention a moment later.

"Anyway, I've been in contact with Hera. The base had to be evacuated after the Death Star was finally destroyed. She got out safely with Dawn and the Princess, and Kanan rejoined them at the fleet," her expression dropped slightly before she continued, "Both General Dodonna and Captain Rex stayed behind, and there's no word on whether or not they survived." The young Mandalorian remained silent as Ezra's own expression fell. The young Jedi nodded slowly. Unwelcome news, but nothing they could do anything about at the moment. The supreme ruler of the Mandalorian people decided to offer his two cents before shifting gears.

"War is never without loss and sacrifice, but the destruction of the Death Star is without doubt the greatest loss the Imperials have suffered in this conflict of yours, young rebels. Your greatest victory, so far," he nodded at them reassuringly as they both looked up to him. "We've been listening in on Imperial comm chatter; the Galaxy is reacting the exact opposite way Palpatine and his craven lapdog Tarkin thought they would after they blew up Alderaan. Your Rebellion is seeing a surge in willing support including outright defections from the Imperial ranks the likes of which have never been seen before. You may have lost your base and some brothers and sisters in arms, but your losses aren't in vain. That much is abundantly clear to us sons and daughters of Mandalore." Both Ezra and Sabine felt their expressions perk up slightly.

"So I take it this means you'll continue to support our cause?" the young man from Lothal asked, hopeful.

"For now, yes," the veteran of Clan Flong affirmed immediately.

"Well, all's well that ends well, I suppose," Sabine remarked in relief. Suddenly, the air turned serious as Mand'alor stepped around the end of the bed, towering over her. She almost forgot to breathe for a moment.

"Moving on, now that your gear has been returned to you, I do believe something _more_ is in order. Bring it forward!"

At that moment, the young Rebels looked over as Spar entered the infirmary with the rectangular, plasteel case. The old clone walked right over to Sabine as Mand'alor stepped back, and offered the case for her to take. She and Ezra both wore confused expressions, but she did as silently indicated, and after the hatch lid flew open, she gasped. The ancient vibrosword from before, nearly identical to the one used by Mand'alor, was now in her possession. It was the first time Sabine and her boyfriend laid eyes upon it. A polished, cortosis-weaved, alloy blade with a black hilt and silver pommel. She looked up at Spar and then over to Mand'alor, who nodded again in assurance.

"It's yours. Consider it a gift. Our ancestors prized these Sith Tremor Swords as valuable trophies during the Jedi Civil War and the Shadow War that followed. This one was claimed by a Neo-Crusader of Clan Wren who served under Mand'alor the Preserver," he was bemused as she silently returned his nod, obviously trying to contain her enthusiasm, "My forces procured it during the siege on our homeworld twenty years ago. I believe it's fitting the first member of your clan to prove themselves worthy since then take it. Granted it's certainly no Darksaber, but the blade will hold strong against any and all lightsabers, so use it well."

"Thank you, Mand'alor, your excellency! I am honored," she bowed her head in respect.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to speak with young Bridger privately for a couple minutes," Mand'alor informed her abruptly, and Ezra arched a brow in curiosity.

"Oh, okay," she nodded, confused but accepting, and Kuervo showed her out a moment later. Ezra's unspoken question was answered for him when Mand'alor revealed he had his lightsaber clasped on the back of his utility belt. He held it out freely for the young Jedi to reclaim, and Ezra took it while nodding in gratitude.

"Not to disparage your own handiwork, Jedi, but it's fairly obvious you didn't craft this weapon. Might I inquire as to where you acquired it?"

"Huh? Oh! I- uh, found it," Ezra admitted, not expecting Mand'alor's interest in the deactivated hilt.

"At the ruins of an ancient Massassi temple on Yavin 4, without even knowing it was there or even existed, correct?" the armored veteran asked further, and Ezra slowly nodded, his curiosity returning.

" _Yes_ … how did you know?" the young man was wary of where this conversation was headed.

"His name may be spoken of only by the few and only in whispers, but my people above all others should remember the name 'Revan' quite well. I know from research, and your confirmation of my suspicions just now; that's _his_ blade. Or at least, it was, a long time ago." Mand'alor was deathly serious, his voice a mixture of heavy assurance and a bit of what could only be described as _wonder_. Ezra was quick to call such a conclusion into question.

"What the-? Who's _Revan_? You're probably mistaken, no offense intended."

"None taken, as I am not mistaken. Revan was the single greatest military leader the Jedi Order and the Old Republic ever possessed. He was tremendously strong in your heretic Force, and had the combat skills to challenge even our strongest warriors. When my ancestors nearly had Coruscant in their blaster sights, he rallied any Jedi with the sense to follow him, and turned the pitiful mess of the Republic military into a threat strong enough to beat them back to our homeworld and beyond," he paused to gauge Ezra's reaction before finishing, "In the end, he and his followers proved to be the only outsiders to ever surpass us in the art of total war, completely and utterly without question. He's been dead for millennia, his legacy fading into legend, and yet here you are, with the lightsaber it was said only one of his line could ever hope to recover." As the information sunk in, Ezra glanced back down at the lightsaber, bringing his cybernetic hand over to grasp it as well.

"As interesting as that bit of history sounds," he acknowledged, sincerely, "I still think you're mistaken. There's no way…"

"Do you not think it strange, that countless individuals, Jedi, Sith, archaeologists, treasure hunters, and even fellow Mandalorians sought what you hold in your hands for millennia, and you alone found it without even trying to?" Ezra looked back down at the ancient, ornate lightsaber hilt he held in front of his person, under all of his fingers. Even assuming this was what Mand'alor professed it was, the young Rebel remained skeptical.

"I'm fairly certain if I was related to some ancient paragon of the Force, I'd remember my parents telling me. I've been training with my master for years, and never even heard of 'Revan.'"

"His name is not one spoken casually, boy. I don't know if you're of his line or not, but there is no mistaking it: that is one of the lightsabers he crafted with his own two hands, and you are now the first to wield it since he last fought. Make of that what you will, but it's nothing to scoff at either way," the supreme ruler of the Mandalorian Clans pressed with an air of equal sincerity and seriousness. Perhaps it was the way Mand'alor conveyed this, or a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this was somehow the real deal, but Ezra nodded in acceptance, his brows furrowed in a matching expression.

"I know the road ahead won't be without challenge, but I'm determined to face it whatever happens," he stated resolutely. Mand'alor seemed amused, yet in agreement.

"It's like another Jedi, or former one, I once knew said, 'nothing worth doing is ever easy.'" A few moments of thought passed before Ezra remembered where he heard somethings similar, before.

"Wait, are you talking about Ahsoka?!" Ezra's eyes were wide in surprise and Mand'alor nodded with a light chuckle from underneath his helmet.

"As I said, I've fought alongside your kind in the past, young Jedi."

* * *

The following day, after it was apparent Ezra had indeed sped up his healing process courtesy of his connection to and knowledge of the Force, Mand'alor summoned Ezra and Sabine to the command hall. The young Jedi needed only a simple crutch to traverse the distance. Kuervo, Spar, and several supercommandos and warriors were present as well.

"Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, step forward," Mand'alor waited for them to do as instructed, and they did so quickly. Sabine had to nudge Ezra to remind him to kneel down beside her. Even as an outsider, it was custom. He continued with a bemused smirk after watching him roll his eyes at her irritated expression, "You two arrived here as a wayward spawn of dar'manda and an ignorant outsider, two of the lowest examples of what a person can be in our territory. I told you that you both would face trials to test your worth, your merit as warriors, whether or not you would be fit to ever be accepted among us and as possible future life-mates," he paused again and easily noticed their faces slightly heat up at that last remark as they glanced at one another awkwardly yet sweetly. "Through trials you expected and others you did not, you two have proven to me there is more to both of you than meets the eye. You both have the hearts of warriors, and that means you've earned a place at our side, both as individuals and as a union."

"We are honored, Mand'alor, your excellency," Sabine bowed her head in gracious reverence. Ezra copied the gesture a moment later.

"What she said- ow!" that earned him another elbow to the side, though it was more in jest than painful.

"You may rise," Mand'alor instructed further, and they did so. "Sabine Wren, you are officially inducted as a True Mandalorian, and retain your position as my personal ambassador to the Rebellion. Ezra Bridger, henceforth you shall be known as Manda'vod*, meaning 'Brother of Mandalore'. You may not be of our lineage, but you've earned the right to walk amongst us as a proven ally. Tomorrow, we'll begin the return trip to Kadelbe. Your ship will be handed off to you on the way back in deep space."

After giving another set of respectful bows, the young Jedi turned to face the young Mandalorian. She was turning to leave when she felt him grab her arm, and when she saw him holding up the ring, her breath hitched as she turned to face him. Sabine felt her heart skip a couple beats as he knelt down again, this time on one knee, and offered the right to her in his cupped hands. His smile held so much warmth and adoration for her, and she returned the gesture while feeling her eyes watering.

"Sabine Wren, will you be my wife?"

"Yes, Ezra Bridger, yes I will."

Her eyes glimmered with fresh tears and she choked back a happy sob as he gently took her hand in his, and carefully slid the ring back onto her finger. Two of the supercommandos present took a step forward in the makings of an apparent protest, but a single raised hand from Mand'alor halted them. He sternly kept them back, though the young couple seemed blissfully unaware of the scene playing out beside them.

"Enough. They've earned this right," the supreme ruler of the Mandalorians then turned and gestured for them to follow as he walked past them, "Let's give them some privacy. Everyone, dismissed." The Mandalorians dispersed and the duo silently followed, but one of them spoke up the moment they were out of earshot.

"Mand'alor, sir, with all due respect, you're seriously okay with _that_?" incredulous disbelief and a hint of disgust dripped with their voice.

"I said nothing about being _okay_ with this, but what I feel about it is irrelevant. Those two proved themselves to me as I required, and what they decide with my favor is their choice."

Heedless to the world around her, Sabine wasted no time pulling Ezra back up onto his feet and smothering his lips with her own. Her meek chuckle was muffed in his mouth as she felt him wipe her tears away with his thumbs once more, and she wrapped her arms tight around him.

* * *

Later that night, the young couple turned in at the spare room in the officer's quarters. The young Jedi couldn't help but smile with closed eyes while resting his head on his pillow. All in all, it had been an exhausting few days, yet with rewarding results. Quite rewarding results. As far as Ezra was concerned, it was worth it. Sleep had nearly claimed him when he heard the rustling of bed sheets and the slight squeak of worn, metal springs. Opening his eyes and sitting up, he flipped the lamp beside him on, and his eyes went wide. His nose filled with her familiar fragrance as he looked up, seeing his fiancé standing over him, clad in only a pair of form-fitting black night shorts and a loose, grey tank top; her typical sleeping wear in warmer environments. His eyes briefly darted to the glimmering, bronzium ring snugly wrapped around her finger. What really caught his attention though was the intense, smoldering glare permeating her amber eyes as they locked onto his deep blues.

"Sabine?" he whispered, not sure what was happening. He didn't need to wonder for long.

Without a word, she surged forward, climbing onto his cot and moving her legs over to straddle him. Her hands gently pushed him back down onto his blankets, and her lips met his with a frenzy that snapped his senses fully awake. Reflexively, his arms wrapped tightly around her trim form, his hands pulling her down onto him. In response she deepened their kiss, sliding her tongue into his mouth, moaning from deep within her throat when she felt his tongue begin to duel hers. He slid his hands down her back and firmly grasped her firm rear, groping it reflexively. She moaned into his mouth and he shuddered in response. Euphoric shivers surged through them, and only when the need for air became too great did they separate just enough to breathe, their heated gasps ghosting over each other's lips. Their eyes resumed their own lock as they breathed, and Ezra allowed a gulp to escape him at what he saw; passion. He felt it, too.

"Sabine, wait," he faintly attempted a protest as he pulled air back into his lungs, "W-we shouldn't! I mean, not that I don't want to, but I didn't bring any-"

"Shut up," she interrupted against his lips, immediately before kissing him again.

The young Jedi thought about trying another protest even as he felt his arousal grow under her own, but when she pulled back to peel her top off and over her head, all coherent thought that remained left him instantly. For now, on this night alone in each other's arms, all that mattered to them was one another, alone. That night, under the bright light of the other moons of Onderon, they truly became one.

* * *

Across the stars back on "The Smuggler's Moon" of Nar Shaddaa, in the industrial sector just outside the power plants stood the formal gathering expanse known as Meridian Hall. Originally a conference center for business both legal and otherwise, the structure built into one of the hundreds of high rises that dotted the surface of the city-moon fell into the hands of gang and eventually cult activity, finally becoming one of the prime meeting locations of the Great Dragon Society. This enigmatic order also, with more discretion, operated a hidden base further in the skyscraper behind and around the perimeter of the place.

In one of the back rooms on the second floor of Meridian Hall, a hooded figure in a bone mask, carved from the skull of an adolescent krayt dragon, stood before a holotable addressing a live, encrypted holocall from an unseen source. It was unseen courtesy of a masking image projected in the form of the Society's insignia, the skull of a mature krayt dragon with three horns and lined with half-crescents.

The hooded figure wore a deep crimson cloak along with a black sash and matching cuffs, boots, and cut-off point around the thighs that left the black pants freedom of movement. Silver-painted durasteel gauntlets, shinguards, and chestplate acted as body armor. Golden epaulets signified his high rank as one of the two co-leaders in the Society, and the mask carved from a young dragon skull was patterned in pitch black, painted line work.

"So long as there is a Jedi left alive in the Galaxy who is of _his_ line, the Society will find and destroy them, I promise you and our exalted one true master, sir," the masked man stated resolutely. The mechanically-disguised voice on the other line immediately replied.

"No, our mutual superior, the Great Dragon as you call him, has made his decision. Find this descendant of the Prodigal Knight and observe them, watch their movements and record their progress, but nothing more. For now, this specimen is to be permitted to live."

"As the Great Dragon wills, so it shall be done!" the leading cultist affirmed instantly.

"For now, I suggest you return to that side project of yours. No doubt the most favored assassin of the Prodigal Knight has at least something of value regarding this matter in its memory core," the mysterious caller instructed simply.

Indeed, for further inside the complex built behind Meridian Hall, down inside a sealed vault within the technological laboratory, analysis droids were hard at work using scanning tools and computer readouts to decode the heavy layers of encryption blocking access to the cranial unit of HK-47, recovered from the wreckage of the _Infinite Reformer_ on Evocar, formerly known as Hutta.

* * *

Elsewhere, on the edge of the known Galaxy, the wind howled upon the blasted surface of a barren, desolate world of dust, rock, and warped ruins. Across a deep ravine lined in one location by fallen, split sections of a deteriorated bridge, a lone, abandoned, block-shaped grey structure stood in silence. The windowless building seemed to be on the verge of collapsing from millennia of neglect. The single entry point, isolated by the fallen bridge that once spanned the ravine, was sealed tight by four rusting blast doors. Yet, as if being carried with winds, a faint and haunting, disembodied scream pierced the dead air all around this cursed place.

 **A/N:**

 **Mando'a Translation:**

Manda'vod: "Brother/Sister of Mandalore", an honorary title given to an outsider who has proven themselves worthy as a warrior in the eyes of high-ranking Mandalorian leaders. Essentially the bearer is recognized as a lifetime ally of the Mandalorian Clans and vice versa. The Jedi Exile was another example of one such individual to be recognized as Manda'vod.

 **Well, there you have it ladies & gentlemen. The war goes on, and both Ezra and Sabine have proven themselves to the loyalists of Mand'alor the Vindicator, earning the Rebellion his favor for the conflict ahead. Still, the threat of the Galactic Empire continues unabated, and the Great Dragon Society enters the stage as a new group to contend with.**

 **Just who is this enigmatic society? What are their goals? Just how deep does their influence run? More will be revealed in the next installment in this series, "Star Wars: Rebels: World At War". The culmination of the Ryloth cam** **paign nears as Hera & Kanan return to aid Cham's resistance while the Imperials dispatch their own backup. As the Rebellion and the Empire clash on the Twi'lek homeworld, mysterious forces plot and work just out of sight. Ezra & Sabine begin to unravel this conspiracy alongside a familiar duo of smugglers. **

**Another thank you to Wikked Grin for his work as my beta, as well as Trap3r and the entire community of authors I have joined here in the Rebels fandom. Together, we make our ideas into creations.**

 **Once again, a sincerest thank you to each and every one of you for your support be it by reviewing, following, favoring, or simply reading. You make this happen as much as I do, and for that I'm ever so grateful.**

 **I'll be sure to keep you all posted on Chapter 1 of the next story, of which I have officially begun. Farewell for now, and may the Force be with us all. ;)**

 **Update: Chapter 1 of "World At War" is now up!**


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